


The 3 Year Gap

by surelysaiyangood



Series: Royal Kin [2]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Android Saga, Romance, Three Year Gap (Dragon Ball)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-05-23 19:21:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 114,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14940332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surelysaiyangood/pseuds/surelysaiyangood
Summary: Vegeta could use a place to stay while he trains to surpass Kakarot's power, and she could offer that to him. Bulma can't believe that he's as bad as everyone says he is, but what if that turns out to be true? A story about the 3 Year Gap that is based on how Future Trunks described his parent's relationship to Goku. What could possibly have gone wrong? Rated M for language and adult scenes. Story 2 of a trilogy.





	1. Tension

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who read "Anyone But Him!" I am excited to be posting the second story in the trilogy now. As a way to celebrate, I am posting the first two chapters today. Please keep in mind that I actually wrote these before creating "Anyone But Him", so the writing style may be a little bit different. I am proof-reading the content for typos and grammar, but it would simply take too long to make the style of story-telling perfectly match up. Regardless, I hope you'll enjoy this. Please let me know what you think!

* * *

Bulma and Yamcha had been going through a rough patch. That was to say the least! It had been just before Raditz had kidnapped Gohan that the couple had their worst fight yet, which has been lingering on and was still causing issues for the couple, even six months after the ordeal on Namek. It was during the early days of this fight that signs really started to wave – all cautionary indications that he wasn't _the one_. Yet, despite seeing this, Bulma wasn't yet ready to accept it. She wasn't ready for it to be _true_. So she ignored those red flags. And, especially after the pain she felt when Yamcha was killed during the battle with Vegeta, she told herself that they could work something out. ' _Isn't this proof that our bond is still strong?'_ She had thought when the relief overwhelmed her senses when Yamcha was in her arms once again. _Weren't the two just **meant** to be?_

In theory, Yamcha really was a good guy. But it was certain _traits_ he had that bothered the Bluehead. He was financially unstable, devoid of any responsibility, and his humor was often times too harsh. These were all things that she had seen in the Z-Fighter since the very beginning, but she had ultimately chosen to try and work with, thinking perhaps he would one day grow out of it. As time went on, though, she found herself often feeling more like his mother than his girlfriend. Especially in the most recent days of their relationship, it seemed that if the two were having any argument that was centered around one of Yamcha's faults he would deflect the blame and find ways to twist the truth… It was _infuriating!_

...And then, of course, there was _blondie._

A woman he had seen temporarily. He met her during that notorious **fight** the couple had just weeks before everything with Namek happened _._ They'd been broken up at the time, but that didn't make the sting any less painful. _Blondie_ was a woman that Yamcha only told Bulma about after they'd reconciled, and he'd insisted she'd been nothing more than a distraction - a fling that never reached serious depths. He'd adamantly claimed that his relations with _Blondie_ had only gone as far as a dinner date. And yet Bulma couldn't forget about it. She just couldn't shake it away. How could she overlook the fact that he had actually seen someone else? Even if the two _had_ been broken up at the time – _how?_

.

It was 11 in the morning and she had just finished arguing on the phone with him. She was tired of the way his own actions seemed to bounce off his shoulders. Bulma never suspected Yamcha of being unfaithful while they were together. But he hadn't been returning her calls the day before, and she was jealous. **Jealous** of _whatever_ it was that he had been doing. He could have been sleeping, for all she knew, but they were going through a rough time, and he should have been concerned enough to want to talk about it. To be blunt, she _needed_ attention. And she wanted it from him. She felt so much pressure to try and make things work, and the more effort she attempted to give, the less he seemed to reciprocate. Perhaps that was the reason why, even when they were on good terms, she always felt that something was missing. She was frustrated by where his priorities seemed to be, and she felt as if she were being taken for granted. She didn't want to be told to "take it easy" when she was trying to explain something he had done to upset her. She didn't want to be shrugged off in exchange for sleep! _She_ was a genius! And a _blue-haired_ genius, at that! She deserved more respect!

Bulma had thrown her phone on her bed and stormed into the backyard with a couple of hand-weights in her arms. She had recently decided she wanted to tone up her body a little. Perhaps _that_ would make him regret his ordeal with _blondie..._ Not that the Bluehead even cared! She picked up her handweight and held it above her body with both hands. Bending her elbows slowly, letting it lower behind her head before pressing it back up. She was determined to get into the best shape of her life and throw it in Yamcha's face. This had become her new way of coping, now that she was done rebuilding Vegeta's ship and had free time. _Oh,_ she would also tend to focus on blueprints and formulas, of course, but in the last couple of weeks she had decided to also work towards tightening up her body. She wanted to make Yamcha _cry_ with regret. Her jealousy today was motivating her more than ever. So she continued with her weight training, until the muscles in the back of her arms felt so tight and tired that she couldn't bring herself to lift anymore. "Hmph! Just a few more weeks of this and it'll make him REAL sorry!" She huffed, feeling powerful as she threw her weight to the grass. "Why didn't I think of this months ago?!"

She watched the weight roll slightly as it landed, taking time to catch her breath. She'd decided to go inside and take a quick shower under some cool water, but that was when she heard _his_ voice.

"Woman! Come here at once!"

Bulma's shallow breaths had originally been stemmed from exhaustion, but her lungs now tightened as her body transitioned to anger. "Hey!" She snapped, turning to Vegeta and gritting her teeth. "I have a name, you know!" That pompous _prince_ had been living with her for six months at this point, and _still_ he seemed insistent on referring to her as the _Woman_. She was getting tired of correcting him. Regardless, she wiped her sweaty hands off on her shirt and began to walk towards the Saiyan.

"The gravity machine stopped working again. I expect it to be repaired at once." Vegeta glared at Bulma as he spoke, but she was used to this.

"What's wrong with it this time?" She asked, rolling her eyes. It seemed as if every week the gravity machine broke down. There was always something going wrong with it, and she was getting tired of having to repair it.

"That weak machine can't withstand my power. It's as simple as that." He growled. "If you would mend it _properly_ this time, I would be able to get through an entire training session without interruptions. Get it right this time!"

"Hey, it isn't _my_ fault you keep breaking it!" Bulma glared. It went without question that Vegeta was angry. He was _always_ in an unpleasant mood, and it he _always_ found a way to make it somebody else's fault. "I'm doing you a favor by taking care of it in the first place!"

"Don't speak to me like that, Woman! You should be dedicating more time to strengthening your technology instead of," Vegeta eyed the weights that had been left on the grass "wasting it on smaller things."

Bulma threw a hand in the air, pointing at her weights. "If you can spend your entire day training by yourself, I have the right to spend 30 minutes working out!" She was yelling now, but it didn't nothing less that make Vegeta grin. "You call what you were doing _training_. Good to know." He scoffed. He gave her a look as if he thought she was a fool before he turned away. He began to head towards the house, turning glance at her from over his shoulder as he went. "I expect the machine to be fixed by the time I finish my meal."

And with that, Bulma was left alone in the yard. Her chest was heaving violently as she fought to hold in her temper. This was _her_ house, wasn't it? What right did he have to mock her for what she chose to do in _her house?_ Furious, she just couldn't take it anymore. Flustered by her exercise, bitter about Yamcha, and hurt by Vegeta's harsh attitude, the Bluehead closed her eyes and let out what could only described as _a primal scream from hell._

.

Yamcha didn't knock - he just walked right in to the Briefs' residence. So many thoughts were going through his mind. He'd told Bulma countless times that he didn't like Vegeta living in that house, but he never went into full detail of exactly _how_ jealous it made him. She'd accused him of it, but he'd never owned up. It bothered the Z-Fighter - the way Bulma would drop whatever it was she was doing to mend something at Vegeta's command. It angered him to hear how that Ape spoke to her, viciously barking disrespectful orders with not so much as a _'please'_ or ' _thanks_ '. And, what bothered him most of all, was that she really didn't seem to mind! Why - she'd even make excuses for his behavior when Yamcha spoke up! " _He's like a kid who hasn't gotten his way!"_ She'd say.

The forlorn Z-Fighter made his way upstairs and found Bulma in her room, sitting at her desk. She was bent over, quietly tuning at something that he couldn't see. She was so deep into her work that she hadn't even when he walked through the door. ' _Yet another project_ ,' he thought. As the Z-Fighter got closer, he could see that Bulma was sticking a screwdriver into what looked like a metal box. Intense determination on her face, she was acting so silently that he couldn't be sure if she was even breathing. If Bulma had noticed his presence in the room, she was refusing to acknowledge it. Yamcha finally decided that he needed to break the silence. Their fight was much more important than whatever it was she was working on, anyway. "Hey babe, we need to chat."

A sharp hiss immediately erupted from the Bluehead. "Can't it wait?! I'm busy!" She hadn't even looked up from her tweaking. "I need to finish this soon!" She was racing to have the gravity machine up and running before Vegeta could even come looking for it. _She'd show that arrogant saiyan not to underestimate her capabilities_ – she was determined to make him eat his own words!

Yamcha was taken aback by how easily she'd dismissed him. He knew that she was angry, and she certainly wasn't one to keep her thoughts to herself. Why wasn't she taking this opportunity to chew his head off? "That's not for Vegeta, is it?" Yamcha asked nervously, and he was only half-joking. He'd been hoping that she would disagree with him – that she would yell something in response to settle his paranoia. Instead, the Bluehead simply looked up to shoot him a scowl. _Her eyes said it all_. Indignant, the Z-Fighter glared back, feeling as the heat rushed to his cheeks. "It is!" He cried, stomping a foot on the floor. "You don't have enough time to work on _us_ but you'll work on something for _him_?!"

Bulma's eyes glossed over for a second. How tired she was of fighting… This wasn't an argument that she felt was even _worth_ having, but here she was… Once again...

_…Oh well._

She slammed her screwdriver down on the desk, allowing the anger to take over. "Oh? It's not as if this is my _job, is it_!" She barked, rising to her feet. "It's not as if I should be taking advice on priorities from _you?_ Are you really _that_ dumb!?"

There was no going back from there. The argument escalated with the heat of an explosion, both participants throwing insults and verbal daggers at each other. Their yells echoed across the house, but they were both past caring at that point. There was no question that anybody in the Briefs household was learning about the many issues that they had in their decade-long relationship. In all, it took about 10 minutes before Yamcha announced that he needed a break. With a rude hand gesture and a glare, he stormed out of the room.

Bulma watched him go, her hands cupping her hips. "Oh, you need a _break,_ do you?! What's surprising about that? This isn't the first time you'll be going M.I.A. on me!" She screamed, but he was already long gone from her sight. She could hear as his footsteps ran downstairs, and she cringed when the front door slammed shut. "Dammit!" She growled, throwing herself back into her chair. She was so angry that her hands were shaking, but she fought to keep control. She was still bent on finishing this project before Vegeta asked for it. She just _had to!_ The thought of how much time she had lost by that pointless dispute was even more infuriating. She turned back to her desk, picking up her screwdriver to continue where she had left off. She glared at the box, noting how badly her knuckles quivered as she attempted to work.

It was only a few seconds later that Vegeta walked in. When the couple had been arguing he'd stood in the hall, his back leaning against the wall. He had been smirking, listening to the entire ordeal in slight amusement. He hated Yamcha - especially since he was such a close friend of Kakarot's and he seemed to _always_ ruin the Woman's mood. He wasn't fond of what he heard him saying to the her, but she was always quick to put him in his place. It was _always_ good to hear that pest be verbally ripped apart! The sight of a flustered Yamcha storming downstairs almost made the Saiyan want to laugh, but he never would let himself get that far. These human arguments were so irrelevant – Vegeta would be damned if he stooped low enough to get genuine _entertainment_ from them!

And now he stood in Bulma's room, his arms crossed as he stood behind her. "What's with all the noise, Woman? What's the progress on your assignment?"

 _Dammit!_ Bulma bit her lip to muffle a scream. She'd been _so close!_ She would have achieved her goal if Yamcha hadn't interrupted her! _Fuck Yamcha – fuck him! And screw Vegeta, too! All that any of these men seemed to do was demand things from her!_ Scorned, she slammed the small box shut. "Yamcha is such an _idiot_!" She yelled, jumping from her chair. She turned and threw the box at Vegeta with all her might, taking all of that day's anger out on the poor little cube she'd worked so hard to mend. Her aim wasn't good at all, though, and it went flying straight for the wall. Of course, Vegeta had the reflexes and speed to jump through the air and catch it before it smashed into pieces behind him. _As she'd predicted he would…_

 _Was he just **perfect** at everything he did? _How annoying _!_

"I re-calibrated the server for you, and all you need to do is pop this back into the chamber!" She screamed. Vegeta had been an unwilling witness to many of the Earthling's fights, but never before had she acted so aggressive towards _him_ during the aftermath _._ She'd given him lip before, but hadn't done anything quite this _physical._ He was taken aback. For a moment he considered his options. He wanted to put her in her place. He had been a prince on his planet, hadn't he? Who did she think she was to act so rash! _On the other hand_ , though, he _had_ gotten what he wanted from her. Vegeta had learned by now that the Earth woman seemed to relish in any excuse to go on a verbal tirade when she was angry, and if he said anything to her right now it would probably just cost him more time that could be spent on training. So, instead of yelling back, the saiyan grunted and turned away. "Very well," He growled, looking over the box in his hand. "I will come to you if I have any more requests."

Bulma waved her hands in the air as he began to step away. "Um, excuse _you_?" She snapped. "Are you forgetting to thank me, _again!?"_

When she said this Vegeta stopped walking so he could glare at her from over his shoulder. "I finished my meal some time ago. You are late with this." He waved it at her. Taunting. "I suppose it wasn't all your fault. You _did_ seem to be having some... _distractions_."


	2. The Breakup

It certainly wasn't unusual of Yamcha to decide to take a break from Bulma when he was mad at her, and it was also typical of him to stretch his breaks out for more than a couple of weeks. In the past, Bulma would wait to hear from him for a couple of days. And then she would try to call him. Usually when she did this, the pattern was that Yamcha would be kind but still insist that he needed some more time to himself. Then, at some point around Day 14 or 16, Yamcha would find himself knocking on Bulma's door with a bouquet of flowers and dinner plans to make up for lost time. Their last couple of breaks had been different, though. Bulma felt no need to reach out to Yamcha. She was tired of the cycle, and she was tired of _him._

During their time apart Bulma had also been doing a lot of thinking. There were many times that she found herself sitting at her desk, staring at blueprints, and completely lost in her thoughts about Yamcha. This was a habit of hers that had been done since the beginning of their relationship, really. The thoughts weren't always _pleasant,_ either _._ Lately, when she pondered through her mind, she was starting to realize that she really wasn't _in_ love with him. All of those Red-Flags had been real, after all. Bulma still cared about him, which made the thought even more difficult. Though she no longer found attraction towards him romantically, it was painful to imagine a life without him. She had known him for so long! Hell – they'd practically _grown up_ together! Knowing him, even if she tried to end the relationship _amicably_ , he wouldn't be able to handle it. He'd refuse to speak to her ever again! She didn't want to say goodbye to such a large part of her life! And yet the idea of even _kissing_ him was enough to make her stomach turn.

She considered the whole gang getting together for reunions in the future. How would it be if she and Yamcha were no longer on good terms? _Sure_ , there had been times that they all had get-togethers during one of her and Yamcha's fights, but this would be _different_. They would be broken up. There would be an un-mendable rift between them. Yamcha would _never_ humor the idea of just being friends with her, not after all they had been through...

The Blue-haired scientist dropped her face into her hands, her heart sinking. She wasn't ready to officially end things with him, though she now knew it was definitely coming. She _just_ needed more time to process everything. This was going to be terrible, and she was well aware of it! Tears welled in her eyes, and she let out a consequential sniffle. She was just about to let out a heart-wrenching sob, but the sudden sound of a voice clearing behind her made her freeze.

"Woman!"

_Who else could it be_?

"Enough with your whining! I need you to mend my suit!"

Bulma picked her head up from her palms to look up at Vegeta. He was standing over her, his arms predictably crossed. There was a large gash on his right bicep, the left shoulder of his suit completely blown off. The fabric was tattered across his chest, revealing fine lines of muscle that she was uncomfortably pleased to see. His cheeks, which usually sported a tan hue, were now bright red. Dust was caked in his hair and across his jaw. Obviously, he had hit himself with a series of hard attacks. Bulma didn't understand why, but Vegeta seemed to be obsessed with hurting himself. It was an _infatuation_ , really. He did _everything_ he could to hurt his body, even after destroying the ship he trained in and nearly killing himself! He'd wipe himself out with determination, only to make a full recovery and start the entire process all over again.

_What was **with** him?_

"Now is not the time, okay?" She mumbled, hands still pressed against her chin.

Vegeta glared. He was used to her talking back, but it wasn't typical of her to bluntly decline an order. "I will _not_ be told when to address you," He said sternly, raising a fist as if to warn her.

Bulma rolled her eyes. It was a bluff. Out of all the times that Bulma insulted Vegeta and he tried to intimidate her, he had never actually followed through with any of his threats. Not once had he even _pretended_ to lay a hand on her. When they had first started living together she'd found a game in teasing him about this, asking the flustered Saiyan if he held back because had a crush on her. She'd even tell him that she thought he was cute just to try and get him to smile. Not that this was a lie on her part. To say Vegeta was _cute_ was actually an understatement… But her jokes never worked in making him lose his temper. Usually he would just tighten his jaw and storm off, muttering something about how _vulgar_ or _indecent_ she was. It was funny, but she'd gotten bored with him always giving her the same reaction. She hadn't even tried teasing him in the last couple of months, at all.

Somehow, reminding herself that he never once had attempted to harm her made Bulma feel better. The Bluehead sighed reluctantly and held a hand out. "Alright, I'll mend your suit. Just go change your clothes, and..." Her voice trailed off. She was trying to sound confident as she spoke, but she was pretty sure she could hear the front door opening downstairs. Completely distracted, she found herself struggling to complete her sentence. "In a couple of hours, I'll…" _Were those footsteps coming up the stairs? "I… I'll…"_

Footsteps...

_Footsteps_! Bulma just _knew_ it was Yamcha! After everything she had been considering that day, she wasn't yet ready to see him face-to-face.

Vegeta could sense the pest as he walked up the stairs. He had no desire to be in the room when Yamcha came in, so he made his way for the hall. Bulma watched Vegeta go, wordless, but she heard his voice in the hallway as soon as he'd closed the door. "Back for round two?"

_Was this panic she was feeling?_ She really didn't know if she was emotionally prepared for another row with Yamcha. She didn't even want to continue _dating_ the guy – another huge fight just wasn't even worth it! Perhaps she could crawl out the window before he came in? He'd think she was just out doing some shopping in the city! Poor Bulma was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't hear the response Yamcha had given to Vegeta outside. She certainly did take note of the saiyan's manic chuckles though, a hostile mock of whatever the Z-Fighter had said to try and insult him. Vegeta's voice disappeared down the hall, and she knew that he had officially left her alone to deal with Yamcha on her own. She grit her teeth as he stepped through the door a moment later. As she'd grown to expect from him, he was holding a bouquet of flowers and a small wrapped present.

"Oh, hey." She said, trying to sound as if he'd taken her completely off guard. As if she hadn't just spent her entire day thinking about him. "What are you doing here?"

Yamcha grinned and made a bee-line towards her. "Hey, I got you something!" He held out the bouquet. Bulma eyed the flowers, wondering if he truly believed that she'd be surprised with this gesture. He did the same damned thing _every_ time they got in a fight! Was there no originality? She ignored his present and took a deep breath, smiling dumbly. "We should probably have a talk..."

.

Vegeta slid into a pair of yellow pants. He'd just finished buttoning a pink shirt over his chest, and he was feeling pure hate for the clothes he was pulling on. "Stupid Earthly fashions!" He growled to nobody in particular. He hated when he had to wear these clothes instead of his saiyan garb. They just felt so… _frilly._ Down the hall he could hear the Woman's voice rising along with the coward's. He could feel both of their ki strengthening with their anger as well. He listened, buttoning his pants and grabbing his tattered suit. He noted that Bulma hadn't been acting like herself at all lately. She'd hardly even bothered to argue with him when he commanded her to do something. And, even when she did give spine, she would retreat almost immediately. She had been acting so reserved, her efficiency had plummeted, and this certainly hadn't been the first time that Vegeta had walked in on the blue-haired girl crying. Vegeta began to head for her room to give her his suit, grimacing as their voices grew even more shrill with each passing second. _How irritating_.

"Get out of here! Just _go_! You **_jerk_** _!"_ Bulma was shouting. She'd asked him to leave twice already, but he was standing his ground. Desperate, she picked up a vase that had been sitting on her shelf and chucked it at him. "Get out of my house!"

He dodged it, allowing it to crash against the wall behind him. Bulma was even more upset now. She just wanted him to listen to her and leave. She'd even wasted a perfectly good vase, and it hadn't even hit him! "You're paying me back for the vase!" She had her hands tightly rolled into fists and was now waving them at the Z-Fighter. "How dare you call me spoiled! Get the _fuck_ out of my **house!** Get out!" She couldn't believe that just 10 minutes ago she had been crying over this creep!

Yamcha didn't budge from where he stood. This argument wasn't over. He could hardly believe what she was telling him, and he wasn't going _anywhere_ until he had spoken _his_ mind. If _they_ were _over_ , he was going to make sure she knew exactly how he felt. She was going to listen to him! It was unfortunate for the Z-Fighter, then, because it was at that precise moment that Vegeta strolled in and tossed his clothes onto Bulma's desk. She didn't even acknowledge the new guest in her room. Eyes puffy with hysterical tears, she was shaking in anger. "If I have to tell you _one_ _more time, Yamcha!_ " Now she snatched a glass that she had been drinking water from. Yamcha was too distracted watching Vegeta, so he didn't notice she had thrown it until it came into direct contact with his head.

"Yow!" He yelled, rubbing at the side of his head. "Hey, take it easy! Stop acting like such a psycho!"

Bulma was fuming. Everything that Yamcha said was making her even more upset by the second. She took a deep breath, readying herself to yell something back, but the blur that suddenly flew past her eyes stopped her before she could. Mouth hanging open in mid-thought, she looked up to see what had just happened.

_Her eyes widened._

Vegeta was holding Yamcha by the shirt, slowly lifting him up off the ground. "The woman told you to leave." He growled.

Bulma's face lit up. _Was Vegeta really coming to her defense?_

Yamcha's eyes were filled with absolute horror. He grasped Vegeta's arm, as if to attempt to break the saiyan's grip. He'd only _just_ been getting back into the swing of things – _he wasn't ready to die again!_

"The woman needs to do my bidding. She doesn't have time for you." With that Vegeta threw Yamcha back into the hall. The Z-Fighter landed on his rear and dumbly stared up at the Saiyan above him. Typically short in stature, Vegeta was now towering over him. Bulma was surprised at how disappointed she was to hear Vegeta's words. It figured that he wasn't _really_ defending her. He couldn't care less about her! He just wanted his stupid suit to be hemmed… It only took a couple of seconds for Yamcha to jump to his feet and run for the stairs. "We still have talking to do!" He called. Once downstairs, he turned one last time to yell his final point. "Screw you, Vegeta!" And with that he was out the front door.

Bulma listened as his car started and the Z-Fighter sped away into the distance, as she silently watched Vegeta in awe. Even if it _had_ been because of his own needs, he had still come to her aid… _hadn't he?_ Why was her heart racing like this? _Why_ did she feel so hopeful?

Sensing her gaze, the Saiyan cleared his throat to break the silence. "Well?"

She blinked, her heart still pounding from everything that had just occurred. "Well... Well, _what_?"

Vegeta let out a groan. "My suit, woman!" It wasn't quite a demand, but more of an exasperated reminder.

Bulma blinked again, and her bewildered eyes suddenly flared. _That stupid suit_! " I don't suppose I have other things to do, then?!" She waved her hand at the blueprints that had been scattered across her desk. The project she had been trying her hardest to focus on, despite the drama going on in her love life. "I don't suppose that I have other things on my mind, considering what just happened here! The least you could do is say _please,_ you know! It's not like I'm your servant!"

Vegeta shook for a second. Human women were a confusing race, indeed. The blonde one downstairs that was always cooking and squealing was even worse than this one! "I got that rat to leave you alone, did I not? Weren't you asking for that?" He sounded so irritated about it. But, then again, he _always_ seemed irritated...

"Hmph, good for you!" She hissed, but she felt the harsh tone leaving her voice. She could tell he was trying to be reasonable with her – at least, as reasonable as he was _capable_ of being… She looked at the suit he'd placed on her desk. "Leave me alone and let me work. I'll bring this to you when it's done."

Vegeta made sure to hold his chest out as he walked from the room. He knew one thing for sure.

_Bulma was back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second chapter! My goal is to post two new chapters each week when I can. I hope you enjoyed!


	3. Hospitality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's only been a day, but I just could not wait to post the next chapter. Chapters 4 and 5 will be up next week! I hope you enjoy this one!

* * *

 

It was only an hour later that Bulma stepped outside of the house, Vegeta's suit folded neatly in her arms. Pleased with how efficient she had been despite the blowup with Yamcha, she was already on her way to deliver on the saiyan's request. It was true - she really was proud of how quick she had been – but, to be fair, this wasn't exactly the first time she had to make similar repairs to Vegeta's beloved garb. The _first_ time he had requested such a thing from her, it had taken nearly two days to examine the material and accurately reproduce it! And of course, once Bulma understood what she was doing in regards to that fabric, she eagerly had dedicated an entire week to preparing a supply of cloth to keep in hand for whenever it was needed. She had even created thread using the same material as well, so she could mold a patch into any tear and Vegeta could never tell that it had been damaged in the first place! This is how she had managed to get tonight's repairs done in such a short amount of time, and she was smugly glad.

The sun was starting to set in the sky as she approached the ship that was parked in her yard. Even through its metal walls, sounds of blasts could be heard erupting from its interior. The day was slowly coming to an end, but it was evident that Vegeta wasn't satisfied with his training yet. From the sounds of it, he still hide quite a supply of energy to burn off! Bulma was used to this, though. It was his routine. And once she reached the ship's door, she could even hearVegeta's muffled yelling coming from the other side. A string of curses. He must have just made some miscalculation…

"Knock, knock!" She called, clicking a button to open the door.

Vegeta had been posed in a squat, but he wasn't surprised with her arrival by any means. He had sensed her approaching, of course! He straightened, stepping out of his pose, and went to shut off the Gravity Machine. Irritated by the interruption, he moved so fast across the ship that Bulma couldn't even make out his figure as it blurred past her eyes. And she might not have been able to see him, but she certainly could hear the humming of the machine come to a slow end, and she knew it was safe to step inside. Sweat streaming down his temples, the Saiyan returned back to the pose he had initially been in, clenching a jaw as he attempted to zone her out and find concentration once again. It didn't matter _who_ it was - he really did **hate** interruptions while he was training _…_

Despite being able to sense his pensive mood, Bulma approached the saiyan with confidence. He was nearly _always_ in a bad mood, so this wasn't unusual for the temperamental saiyan prince. And, anyway, he _had_ asked her for the favor – hadn't he? The Bluehead sported a wide smile and she held up the suit for him to see. "As good as new, right? " She beamed from ear-to-ear. "I've been timing myself, and I was able to fix this 10 minutes faster than last time! Pretty cool, huh?" Close enough to him, she could see now that Vegeta was breathing so heavily that his shoulders bounced with his lungs. He glared at the material she was showing him, not even bothering to blink with acknowledgement.

… Slowly her smile began to fade.

He didn't speak a word as he analyzed the suit that she was holding out for him, wordlessly struggling to simmer the rage that was building after another day had been spent in futility. Vegeta _still_ hadn't been able to become a Super Saiyan, and he was pissed. What in the hell was he doing _wrong?!_ How had Kakarot been able to attain such a status, when he didn't even have a drip of royal blood in his body? Stewing in frustration, Vegeta's jaw was clenched in silence, and his narrowed eyes slowly moved to lock on her face.

Several moments passed that he was staring at her, and finally Bulma let out a sigh. It had been a really long day, and her increased efficiency had been enough to cheer her mood. It was obvious, though, that Vegeta didn't care about how proud she was of herself, and expecting him to understand really _had_ been a rather foolish hope. When he was training, Vegeta got sucked into his own mental world – one where he didn't have the capability to care about _anybody_ other than himself, even if he tried! "I can see that I came at a bad time." She muttered. Feeling dejected, she stepped back to lay the suit on the floor. Soured, the Bluehead bit her lip as she turned towards the ship's door. She'd only broken up with her on-and-off boyfriend an hour earlier, and she had spent all of her time since then mending a suit for a thankless guest. _What the hell was she doing with her life? Why was her day turning out to be filled with so much crap?_ Rolling her eyes, Bulma made a mental note for when she got back into the house – she didn't drink very often, but tonight she was _definitely_ going to need a shot of vodka and a hot bath to wash away the stress!

"Wait."

She paused. Were her ears playing tricks on her, she wondered bitterly, or had Vegeta actually given her the _dignity_ of a spoken word? Slowly she turned to glance at him from over her shoulder, and she could see that his eyes had followed her as she was walking away. He really _was_ staring at her...

"Yes?" She replied with a suspicious blink.

"Thanks." His chest was still heaving, his lungs still working at full power, he was still fighting to catch his breath.

Bulma blinked again. "What did you say?"

 _His eyes_. They were locked on hers, too stubborn to break away. His breaths becoming less urgent as his lungs calmed, he straightened his posture and crossed his arms. She knew he wasn't going to repeat himself, but she smiled anyway. She had hoped he would have made some backhanded compliment about how quick she had been tonight, but she certainly hadn't been expecting _this… Had he **ever** thanked her before?_ Spirits rising, she took a step towards him. "Vegeta? Can I... ask you a question?"

 _'_ Great', he thought. Somehow, by showing gratitude, the Woman now felt as if she was entitled enough to spark conversation with him. She was coming even closer – she was going to ask him something, whether he offered consent to it or not! It was obvious that he didn't need to respond at all, and so he simply watched her, noting that her eyes were now lighting and brightening her face.

Bulma took the silence as a good sign, despite how awkward it was. She knew that he would have shot her down if he didn't want to be bothered. Trying to think of the best way to word this, she placed a thoughtful finger on her chin. "Why is it that you... keep... erm, blasting yourself?"

He certainly hadn't been expecting this! His hard expression dropped as he thought over how to answer her question. And, as she watched, slowly but surely his mouth pulled back into a smirk. "The saiyan race is the greatest race in the universe," He breathed, seeming to be cheered with self-interest. "When our bodies are pushed to their limits and we recover, we become even stronger. Tougher. More powerful. The more damage I inflict on myself, the better."

She had suspected this, so his reply came to her with no surprise at all. In fact, she had already thought of her own response. "So then, why aren't you resting now? You seem exhausted… Don't you think you've already pushed your body to its limit tonight?" A genuine look of concern grazed her features as she spoke.

The look on Vegeta's face made Bulma think that he was actually going to agree with her. Perhaps it was the way she worded it, but his expression softened briefly, and he opened his mouth to say something back. Evidently though, he quickly changed his mind. He locked his jaw shut, and a moment later he had once again adopted that trademarked glare of his. "Not yet."

Surprised by the sudden harsh of his voice, she took a step back. His eyes were still locked on hers - goodness, _those eyes…_ They were mesmerizing, and it seemed that her heart would immediately begin to pound anytime they were focused directly on _her_. "Alright, then…" She breathed, backing away even more.

This entire situation was starting to make Vegeta feel uneasy. When he saw a certain _glint_ of admiration clouding in her eyes he realized he had been staring, and he swiftly turned away. _What the hell had he just done? He'd completely let his guard down just now - and all it'd taken was for her to express keen interest in his physical goals!_ Feeling the need to do some damage control, he dropped back into a pose and began to channel his ki. "Why does it matter to you, anyway? I've only got two and a half years before those Androids come!" He growled, feeling as energy began to bubble through his veins, wind starting to whip against his ears as his energy began to flare. He was now yelling, but it was to make sure his voice could be heard, rather than a result of anger. "I _will_ be stronger than Kakarot! Mark my words. He'll see exactly what a Saiyan prince is capable of!"

Bulma could have sworn that she could see electricity generating from his body. She didn't know how to sense ki, yet she could _feel_ as his rose. His already spiked hair seemed to be lifting even higher, and she could swear that she saw a vein starting to throb in his temple. Electricity was sparking around him, a thin veil starting to illuminate around his body. The air that was swirling around the Saiyan was slapping her in the face as her own hair began to blow back. "Wow," She breathed, eyes widened. This scene was quickly becoming a bit overwhelming…

Vegeta's muscles seemed to grow more strained with each passing second. And suddenly, when it felt as if some type of climax was about to explode, the Saiyan let out a frustrated yell and dropped to his knees. The energy immediately gone, the throbbing veins in his head suddenly ceased, the air once again still. "Ah! Damn it!" He barked, slamming a fist on the floor below. He had been struggling with this since he'd begun his training. _Every time_ it felt that he was about to make some type of breakthrough, he'd lose it. He punched the floor again – just for good measure - cursing under his breath.

She'd never heard him yell like this, and temporarily it was frightening. But any fear Bulma had in that moment was quickly superseded by worry. It didn't take a scientific mind to see that he was struggling. The man was absolutely exhausted! Stepping forward again, the Bluehead put a hand to her chest. "That was incredible," She sighed. She wasn't sure why she chose those words, but something told her that Vegeta needed to hear them. She could feel her heart pounding under her breasts, and she was nearly holding her breath to make sure she would hear his response.

On his hands and knees, he turned to look at her, as if to confirm she'd really said it. "Not... good... enough..." His chest heaving again from the ordeal, he dropped his face to glare down at the tile below. Sweat was dripping from his forehead, his eyes stinging slightly from the salt.

"Please," Bulma coaxed. "Dinner will be ready soon. Really - imagine how great it'll be if you eat a big meal and just get some rest. You can continue this tomorrow!"

Still working to catch his breath, Vegeta didn't even bother to acknowledge her plea. It was just like him to be stubborn, and she knew it was time to give up. "Just... keep it in mind..." Turning back towards the door, she began to make her exit. And once she was stepping into her yard, the Bluehead let out a deep breath of air that she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. Her heart was still throbbing against her ribs - she could even hear it in her ears. The poor guy – with such a _fit build_ and such an _appealing face –_ he was going to work himself to death in her own home!

.

Ever since Vegeta had started training at the Briefs' residence, preparing meals seemed to take up all of Mrs. Briefs' day. This meant that she couldn't dedicate as much time to other household chores, so it had been part of Bulma's new routine to help with some of those each evening. Bulma had just finished her work for the night, and now sat at the kitchen table and watched as her mother finished up with dinner. Her eyes had been lazily following Mrs. Briefs around the kitchen as she worked, but the Bluehead's mind was focused on much different things. She just _couldn't_ get her thoughts off of the man who was currently locked away in that ship!

"Mmm," Mrs. Briefs sang as she took a sip of some stew she was cooking. "Bulma dear, would you please tell our boys that dinner's almost ready?"

_Our boys._

That choice of words was enough to nearly make Bulma blush. She didn't need to be asked twice! Bulma eagerly jumped from the table and went straight for the door. The image of Vegeta cursing on his hands and knees had been playing over in her mind since she'd left him in his ship, and she was eager to check in on him. When she got to the ship, she noted that she couldn't hear any sounds coming from the inside, as she had a few hours earlier. Curiously, she even placed an ear to the door.

 _Silence_.

Bulma, her face still pressed against the cold metal as she listened quizzically, gave the door a firm knock. Wondering if she'd hear any footsteps or curses, she knocked again. And when she was about to knock a third time, the door itself suddenly flew open.

Vegeta was standing just a few centimeters away from her face.

Startled, Bulma flew back and screamed as her body slammed into the Earth below. "Hey!" She yelled, momentarily irritated from her own shock. But then she looked up and saw his expression, and her eyes widened. He was pale - _very_ pale. Skin saturated with sweat. He hadn't even bothered changing into the mended suit after she'd left. The pink shirt around his shoulders was now tattered into shreds. _Ruined_.

"Hey," She repeated, her tone softening this time. She rose back to her feet, dusting herself off. "Dinner's ready..."

"Good," He grunted, stepping out from the ship and commencing on his walk towards the house. Bulma jumped in order to follow him from behind, silently eying his back as she moved. He had _already_ been weak and frustrated the last time she'd seen him – what the hell had he done after she'd left? How was he still able to even _stand_ at this point?

.

During dinner the Bluehead had her mind on other things, even as the Saiyan sat across from her. She ate a small plate in order to please her worrisome mom, but she downed it fast and then excused herself from the table. She had just gotten an idea, so she raced for the linen closet upstairs. She loaded her arms with a few things from it and turned. Then, down the hall and to the left, she came to a room. Bulma stepped in and clicked on the light. Vegeta's bed was so tightly made that it almost appeared as if he just slept _on_ it instead of _in_ it. She smiled as she set down the pile she'd been carrying in her arms so that she could start her task. Turning, she went back for the bed. He _really_ was something else...

It was only a few minutes later that the saiyan's abrupt voice alerted her that she was no longer alone. "What are you doing?" He growled, sounding just as tired, even after eating a full meal. She'd been hoping that she would have had a chance to finish switching his bedding out before he came upstairs… Disappointed, she finished smoothing out the new blanket under her palm, pulling it tightly over the sheeted mattress. She didn't respond to him, even as she laid the pillows back down on top of it.

"Woman! I asked you what you're doing!"

Bulma turned around now, a warm smile still on her face. "You'll get some _good_ rest with these new sheets," She explained. "I just got them the other day. They're silk! And this is a feathered down blanket! It's amazing to lay under. I know it'll help you sleep _really_ well!"

The saiyan's nose turned, his expression growing even more sour. "...Silk? And a... down... blanket?"

"Yes, silly!" She laughed, her eyes starting to glow. "Trust me on this! You'll feel way better after a night in these!"

There she was – doing it _again_. Smiling at him. He didn't like it when she smiled at him – he didn't _like_ the uncomfortable sensation it gave him! His jaw tightened, he shifted his focus to the newly made bed in order to avoid her gaze. "I didn't ask you to do this."

 _That was it_. Her smile dropped. She threw a hip out, placing a hand on it. "Hey!" She hissed back. "I try to do something nice for you, and that's how you're going to react? You need to learn to some respect!" She brushed passed the Saiyan then, briskly walking for the door. "Now take a shower and I'll bring you a new set of clothes! And I want an apology next time I see you, got it?!" She stormed from the room, angrily muttering under her breath as she disappeared down the hall. Now alone, Vegeta stepped towards the blanket to run a hand across it. Soft. Thick. He raised an eyebrow, pressing his palm even harder into the material. It had been a long time since he'd encountered bedding like this. And back then he had been so young that he hadn't even cared to regard it with much thought. "What difference does it make?" He breathed, eyes widening as repressed memories began to slowly seep his mind. He'd taken such thick blankets for granted when he still lived on his home planet. In fact, Frieza never let _any_ of his men sleep with bedding. It was an unnecessary luxury that the Saiyan Prince had long forgotten about after years of sleeping on cold beds made of metal. Feeling uncomfortably nostalgic, he distanced himself from the furniture and went to take his shower. And sure enough, when Vegeta returned 20 minutes later with a towel wrapped around his waist, he saw a fresh set of clothing had been left on the end of the bed. It was a plain white T-shirt and a pair of red lounge pants. "At least it isn't pink," He grunted, dropping the towel…

Once fully dressed, he turned back to the bed. He raised an eyebrow, staring as if he was waiting for it to make some kind of surprise attack. " _Down_ blanket,"' He scoffed, as he hesitantly sat on it. "What a _stupid_ name." Despite how unnecessary he thought the frilly bedding to be, as soon as his rear was set on that fabric he suddenly remembered that he was still _exhausted_ from his training. It had been a mentally excruciating day. With a sigh, he fell on his back to look up at the ceiling. He'd been foolish enough to not turn the light off when he'd had the chance, and now he found that he was too comfortable to want to stand back up. The day was quickly catching up to him. It was _now_ time to sleep.

As if on cue, he could suddenly hear the Bluehead's voice coming in from the doorway. "Hey!" She called, a slight giggle in her tone. She'd jokingly thought it in the back of her mind, but apparently he really _had_ been sleeping _on_ the beds since his arrival! What a _character he was!_

He felt her ki moving closer as she approached him. "Come on, don't be silly! Stand up!" She was ordering. It was the last thing he wanted to do. And yet, because she had a short temper and he didn't care for getting into heated discussion at that time, he obliged. He stood, and Bulma reached behind to pull the blanket and sheet up from the mattress, patting it to gesture him to lay back down. "Isn't it great?" She asked softly, gently setting the material over him as he sank into the bed once again. Vegeta felt oddly comfortable. The weight of the down blanket was gently soothing him into the mattress. The cloth smelled fresh and sweet, and he looked up at Bulma. It had been a _very_ long time since he had allowed himself to be in such a pampered state, and it was _strange._ Completely worn out, he blinked at her, not caring to form any words.

"Look at you," She was _smiling_ again. She was always quick to offer him _t_ _hat smile..._ "You shouldn't push yourself so hard!" She lay a remote on his bedside table. "Look, just press this red button and it'll buzz me. Just let me know if you need anything, okay? You shouldn't get up at all until the morning."

Vegeta lazily eyed the blue-haired woman beside him as she fumbled about. She was wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts, and he was looking over her legs. Most of the humanoid women he encountered either had vastly protruding muscles or were the harsh opposite, with flesh that was nearly made of jelly. This Woman was different. Her anatomy closely resembled Saiyan women, however her figure was smaller. More delicate. _Smooth..._ He felt a strange wave across his stomach as he analyzed her body from behind, but he fought it back as soon as it came. That Earth Woman _always_ made him feel this way when he looked at her for too long...

Bulma turned and walked towards the door. She took one last look at Vegeta before she clicked off the light. "Look," She whispered to herself. "He's already asleep."


	4. Bulma's Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to make it a goal of posting two new chapters a week - one on Monday to start the week with, and one on Friday to ease us into the weekend. Thanks again to everyone who reads and offers feedback! It means more to me than I could ever say.

Bulma lay in her own bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was nearly midnight, and her mind had only been on one thing since she'd left the saiyan prince in his room. Her heart was pounding as she replayed the image of his sleeping face over in her mind. She knew all of the stories that everyone had told her. She knew the things that even Vegeta had said, boasting happily about how tough of a warrior he was when he had first arrived on Earth. But when he let his defenses down, she saw a different man completely. She saw the _real_ Vegeta. Not the one who had been produced by Frieza to mindless slaughter and serve destruction. He was the man who had begrudgingly thanked her, the man who had defended her against Yamcha, the man who was so oddly calming to be around when he wasn't trying to keep up a tough front. He was guarded, but inside was a gentle nature. She wondered how he would have turned out if he hadn't been abducted by Frieza. Would his life still have been made up with such a violent history, or...

The Bluehead nearly jumped when she heard her phone ring loudly next to her on the bedside table.

 _Phone?_ Who was calling at a time like this? Did they have _no_ consideration? It was nearly midnight! Shaking, she picked up the receiver and held it to her ear. Fighting to keep her voice down, she took a deep breath. "Hello?"

" _Babe_."

Bulma tried to gulp, but found that her mouth was dry. _Yamcha_. It wasn't like him to call so soon after a break - and this time they were _broken up!_ She hadn't expected this at all, and the Bluehead found that she really didn't _want_ it. Speaking with him right now, while she was trying to wind down for the night, was the _last_ thing that appealed to her... And, because of that, she didn't respond at all. She simply lay there, holding the phone up to her ear, and waited for him to explain himself. If he was calling at this time, he had to have a reason. There was no need for small-talk on her part.

It took a moment of awkward silence, but when Yamcha realized that she wasn't intending to reply his voice came through again. "Look, I was wondering if you wanted to meet up in a couple of hours? There's a great 24-hour burger place that just opened and we both should-"

"I already ate." Bulma cut in, unable to bear letting him continue. She clamped her eyes shut, taking in a deep breath. There was an odd empathy that came with hearing the desperation in his voice, and she found it hard to be so cold. Especially after everything they had been through. She didn't want to be in a relationship with him, but she also didn't want to hurt him like this. "I'm sorry..."

Yamcha took another silent moment to consider his words before continuing. "Maybe tomorrow, then?"

 _Kami -_ they had been together for so long. He'd been her first and only boyfriend - she didn't have experience in break ups, damnit! Her eyes were stinging, painfully understanding that she didn't want to end things on a bad note. It was strange - despite how confident she was in wanting to end things with him, this was incredibly agonizing to go through. A new part of her life was about to begin, but she still had things to finish up before that could happen. She figured that she owed him one last chance to be civil. She nodded, reluctant tears running down her cheeks, her hands starting to quiver. What made things even worse for the emotional Bluehead was that she _still_ couldn't stop thinking of Vegeta - even in that moment! Bulma wanted to be honest with Yamcha, to put her foot down and tell him that they had _absolutely no chance_ in making things work, but she couldn't bring herself to do it - not over the phone. It was too late, and she owed him the dignity of doing it face-to-face, without any blowups or yelling.

"Bulma?"

She suddenly realized that the video call feature wasn't being utilized, and he hadn't seen her nodding. Of course he didn't know that she was responding! "Okay, Yamcha. Tomorrow we'll meet." She bit her lip. "Just... to eat and talk, okay?"

Yamcha's voice sounded more cheerful when he wished her goodnight. And, with that, Bulma placed the phone back on its base and rolled to her side. She grabbed her pillow and hid her face into it, trying to compose herself. Anxiety was bubbling through her veins as she thought woefully of how bad the next day was going to be. There would be no angry explosion of words at Yamcha the next time she saw him. Just an honest conversation, without the distraction of a fight, and it was the oddest sensation to think about. She didn't even know what she was going to say. Surely she couldn't tell him that she was now starting to yearn over Vegeta, but the thoughts she had for that man alone was more than enough confirmation that her time with Yamcha had run out.

 _Vegeta_.

What a futile person to have eyes for. As if anything between them would be a realistic hope. She'd have better luck trying to spark romance with the plants that her mother kept in the garden. "Ah!" She groaned, turning to lay on her back. Her heart was really screwing her over as of late! Of all people - why did it have to be _him?_ She placed her hands under her head, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath. " _Why_?"

* * *

Bulma's alarm went off at 8 o'clock sharp. As usual. She weakly reached for the snooze button, but instead accidentally knocked the clock off the table. It fell back and landed in a groove between the nightstand and the wall, of course. Cursing under her voice, Bulma pulled her body out of bed and retrieved the clock. She took a deep breath as the placed it back where it belonged, relishing the return of silence. _So much for an extra ten minutes of sleep_...

She yawned loudly, grabbed a set of clothes, and made for the hall. She hated how heavy her head felt the morning after a late crying session. Her eyes still burned from the tears, brain in a fog, and she wondered how many hours she'd managed to rest for before the clock had so _rudely_ awakened her. She passed Vegeta's bedroom, noting that the door was still shut. It was a pleasant surprise that this small detail cheered her mood - even if it was only slightly. Vegeta usually woke before the sun was out to start his training, but evidently he was sleeping in this morning, and she was glad. He needed it.

Slipping into the bathroom, Bulma quietly palmed the door shut behind her, trying to make as little noise as possible as to not disturb the resting prince. In the privacy of the bathroom she placed her hands on the counter, watching her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were still swollen and pink from the night before. Her eyes red, her hair a mess. As she pulled off her clothes, the promise the had made to Yamcha replayed in her head. ' _What am I going to say?'_ She thought, yet again, as she stepped into the steaming water.

45 minutes later, when Bulma stepped back into the hall, she looked much more awake and much less tired. The steam of the hot water had relaxed her, soothed her skin, and helped to wake up her mind. No longer in a mental fog, she had decided to wear a bright red dress that clung tightly to her body that day. She looked down at herself and admired her shape. She wondered if it was just her imagination, or if her new exercise routine had been helping to sculpt her physique. Perhaps Yamcha would take note of it, too. She hoped that, if anything could come out of their separation, he'd at least learn from the way he'd treated her.

Downstairs Bulma walked into the kitchen and sat at the table. Mrs. Briefs was singing to herself as she worked through a large pile of dirty dishes in the sink. "You _just_ missed Vegeta, dear!" She sang to her daughter. "He woke up so late this morning, I was almost worried about him! But he ate a great meal anyway. What a nice boy!"

Interesting - the Bluehead turned to glance out the window. The ship outside seemed so still and quiet from where she was. it was hard to imagine the type of commotion going on behind its walls.

* * *

Vegeta was woken by the sound of the bathroom door shutting, which was adjacent to his room. A few seconds later, and he could hear water running on the other end of the wall. Feeling nearly disoriented, her looked around. He wasn't used to waking up in such... comfort. _And the scent_. The sheets still had that fresh, sweet odor. What _was it?_ Suddenly he looked up and realized that the sun was shining in on him through the window. ' _Damn!'_ He thought, immediately throwing the bedding off his body. He typically woke before the crack of dawn, to get a good 6 hours of training in his system before lunch time! Sleeping so late had cost him vital hours of training! _The hours he'd lost!_

Despite this, as Vegeta ran through the kitchen, he found that he couldn't resist a full meal. Mrs. Briefs was standing at the stove, and when she heard him enter the room she turned. A smile planted across her cheeks, a spatula in her hand, she waved. " 'Mornin, V! Do ya want bacon or sausage today?"

 _Couldn't she see he was in a hurry?_ There was no time to waste! He'd already slept so late! He was late. He was behind! He needed to train doubly hard just to _try_ and make up for it! Vegeta glared at her, pausing in his tracks as the aroma of sizzling meat drifted through his nose. "I want both." He grunted, turning to sit down. "And I want that drink you gave me last week, too. The one you called _juice._ The orange one..."

' _Damn!'_ Vegeta thought again twenty minutes later. He threw his last plate down and jumped from the table. Now he _really **was** late!_ He hadn't even bothered to change out of his night clothes - he simply ripped his white shirt off when he stepped inside the ship. His suit was still on the floor from the previous day, so he changed into it before starting his training. That **Woman** had done this to him! She'd made him sleep in that stupid fluffy blanket, and it'd thrown his body off in its routine. Now look at what happened! The day had only just started, and already he felt that it would be ending much too soon. He immediately turned the gravity machine on, stepping into a pose. It took only a second for the energy to surge through his body as he began to power up, a grin cracking his stressed features. There was a rush he felt - one that he hadn't experienced in several weeks. He was much more energetic than he'd felt in a long time, and he laughed, his ki continuing to rise. He lifted a fist and opened it, revealing his palm to the wall in front of him. He shot a blast, just for good measure, a manic grin strewed across his face. If this was how refreshed he was after sleeping a few extra hours, then he'd surely be productive.

_Today was going to be **good.**_

_**.** _

It was inevitable that the initial rush of new-found energy wore off, and Vegeta quickly realized that, despite the power he felt, he still wasn't peaking enough to reach the level of the legendary. Frustrated and dripping with sweat, the vexed Saiyan decided that it was time for a change in his routine, which meant paying the Bluehead a visit...

… Bulma was sitting by herself, holding a cup of tea below her face. She was inhaling its odor, enjoying the feel of its heat rising into her skin. She'd long ago finished her breakfast, and for the last hour she had been sitting alone in the kitchen with only her thoughts to keep her company. She was trying so hard to come to a resolve that would help her to cope with her anxieties of the evening ahead, attempting to find a way to justify her breakup with Yamcha other than the fact that she was _repulsed_ by him and so allured with Vegeta. How coincidental it was, then, that she was working so hard to get the Saiyan off her mind, only to look up and see him quickly approaching. "Hey," She said softly, taking a small sip from her drink.

"Tell me something, Woman. How long will it take you to design me new training gear?" Vegeta asked, blatant frustration in his tone. His mood had soured even more at the sight of her in that microscopic red dress she was wearing. The color only worked to make her eyes look more blue with contrast, and he didn't _need_ her to be invading his senses anymore than she already had been.

She'd hoped that perhaps his mood would have been a little better this morning after his extended night of rest, but Bulma was used to his chronic irritation by now. "What kind of new gear?" She asked, shrugging off the harsh tone he'd used.

"Bots. Battle bots."

Raising an eyebrow, she looked up at him now. "What do you mean _bots_? You _have_ bots."

"Those robots you designed are weak." He growled. "They need to be able to withstand more power. I'm getting tired of having to hold back with them! One blast too strong and they're out of commission for the day. It's ridiculous!"

 _How could she make them any better than they already were?_ Her mind began to drift. Thoughts of different types of metals that could be used - perhaps she could embed some of that cloth she used for Vegeta's suit to reinforce their shells? A smile was spreading across her lips. Her anxiety was already starting to dull. The man in front of her had gifted her with something to take her mind off of Yamcha, and he didn't even know it... "I'll see what I can do. Give me a few hours to come up with some plans, and I'll get started with a prototype!"

Vegeta smirked at her enthusiasm. He knew she'd be quick to come up with a plan. "Very well, Woman. The sooner, the better."

"Aren't I known for my hasty returns by now?" Bulma beamed. But suddenly a thought struck her mind, and her face dropped. "I actually need to go out tonight for a little while. I'll do as much as I can before then. It shouldn't cause any significant delays."

This was something Vegeta wasn't used to, nor had he been expecting. The Earth Woman was _always_ working around **_his_** schedule. What kind of joke was _this?_ She hadn't even begun on this project yet, and _already_ she was announcing a break! He couldn't register what exactly this feeling was that was tightening in his core, but he didn't like it. "There's _nothing_ that should be more important than the work I assign you!" He snapped. "What do you _mean_ you have to go out?!"

She seemed to sink deeper into her seat when he said this. Her shoulders dropped, and she clutched her cup of tea even tighter. Vegeta could see that whatever it was that she needed to do, this Woman wasn't even looking forward to it. He felt himself softening.

"I just..." She struggled. "I have to take care of something... with someone."

She was so timid in that moment. It was almost amusing. It was amazing how witty and stern she could be one second, and in the next so strikingly vulnerable. "I expect this to not cause any delays." The saiyan sighed and shook his head, rolling his eyes. She seemed so genuinely unenthusiastic about whatever meeting she was going to have, there was no point in giving her more grief over it. But who could she be meeting that would make her so unhappy? "Have fun with Yamcha tonight." He said sarcastically. It had been his way of teasing her. After the fight the previous day, Vegeta had expected Bulma to yell at him for this comment. He'd assumed that she would immediately go on a rant, comparing Yamcha to the foulest pieces of matter in the universe, and he was surprised when no such words arose from the Bluehead. Instead, her shoulders seemed to sink lower into the chair, and she took a deep breath.

Her body language said it all. _She really **was** going with that Earth-Rat! _ Vegeta was so shocked that he didn't say anything at all, his thoughts following him back outside to the ship. Why was she going with _Yamcha? Again?!_ He began to power up once more, and soon his surprise began to slip into an undeniable anger _. Fucking Yamcha!_ _He was_ useless! Distracting her from her projects - once again! Vegeta, who had always had an extreme hate for that rodent, humored the idea of blasting him in the face the next time he saw him. _That_ would teach the bastard to bother the Woman!

But, then again, what _should_ Vegeta care if that damned Bluehead would rather go spend time with Yamcha than focus on developing new bots for him?

_What made her want to do something like that, anyway?_

It didn't matter that she seemed so unhappy about having to go out. He had long forgotten about the displeasure she had been exhibiting. All he could think in that moment was that she was going to be seeing _him -_ she was going to be alone with **him!** And it was much too infuriating for Vegeta to take. With a loud yell, the Saiyan opened his hand and threw a blast straight into the floor below. His eyes followed the ball of light as it bounced up into the ceiling, back into the ground, and then popped into an explosion in midair. It hadn't worked to calm his fury - if anything watching the blast had only made him feel even more angry. And, hours later, he found himself blasting multiple attacks with each hand, twelve per second, to drown out the sounds of Bulma greeting Yamcha outside and disappearing into his car.


	5. Bulma's Date

* * *

Bulma walked alongside Yamcha in a park after dinner. They had been engaging in small talk ever since he had picked her up and taken her to eat, and she was growing increasingly uneasy. She was trying to wait for the right time to bring up the serious matter that loomed in the air, and it seemed that it had finally come. Yamcha cleared his throat and Bulma could tell what was coming. "I've been doing some thinking," he said.

"I have, too."

"I'm sorry about yesterday," The Z-Fighter continued.

"I am, too." She replied.

"I want to move on with you," Yamcha explained. Bulma stopped walking and turned to him, sporting neither a smile nor a grin. Her light eyes were uncharacteristically dark, and the expression on her face confirmed all that he needed to know. He dropped his eyes to his feet, hanging his head. "You really don't?" He asked, looking back up. His pupils were hopeful now, begging her to reconsider.

The Bluehead took his palm into hers, placing her other hand over it. "I'm sorry." She said softly "I really am... I still care about you, and I want this to be as civil as possible..."

"But, why? Where is this coming from?"

A single tear tracing down her cheek, Bulma shook her head. She couldn't answer this. They had their history of issues, and had definitely had their share of fights. But what couple didn't? She suspected him of cheating on her, but she had no definite proof. The truth was, deep down there was an underlying lack of passion that could no longer be denied. At this point she knew they'd only be wasting each others' time if they tried to work anything out. "I don't know, Yamcha..." She breathed, as if she was pleading him to understand. "I just have this feeling inside. The more I try to reason with it and try to work on things, the more it _just_ grows.."

Yamcha turned his head away now so she couldn't see his own reaction. He couldn't argue with what she saying - if that was how she felt, then there was nothing he could do. Perhaps he'd gone too far with his teasing about the blonde girl he'd temporarily seen. Standing beside him in her tight red dress that complimented her round curves, the Z-Fighter couldn't help but that think perhaps he'd taken Bulma for granted. Their fights had become more volatile in the last year, and if anything he'd only encouraged that with his behavior. But Bulma was... well, _Bulma._ She was quick to get offended, stern in holding her ground, but in the end she'd always forgive him - no matter what he did. Maybe he'd come to expect this from her more than he deserved it. Perhaps, in doing so, he had actually pushed her away. Whatever it had been, the cycle between them had been consistent, and he just couldn't believe that this time they were actually _through_. "I understand." He sighed. "I can't force you to stay if that's how you feel."

Despite the gloom in the air, she suddenly felt much better with the weight taken off her shoulders. He was being surprisingly reasonable, and Bulma appreciated this. She was grateful that he wasn't going to beg. "I don't want to lose you." She continued. "I want us to be good friends. This doesn't have to be a goodbye forever, right?"

"Right." Yamcha nodded. He put a hand on her back and gave a small push, cuing for their walk to continue. They strolled together in silence for several minutes before he spoke again. "I want to be friends, too. I care about you too much to see you out of my life. But I can't do this right away... I need time to myself first."

She understood.

And, as the two headed back to Yamcha's car, they held each other close. One last time. It wasn't a romantic embrace, but more of a token of agreement. A gesture of care. Bulma could feel the sadness in Yamcha's posture as she held his arm to offer emotional support. With each step they made, they were growing steadily further apart, although they were still pressed together physically. And though the air around them was grave and the aspect of a new future frightened her, she felt a melancholy peace in knowing that Yamcha was going to be okay.

* * *

Even by his own standards, Vegeta had eaten a large meal that night. Bulma still wasn't back home and it was driving him crazy. He had been attempted to get more training done after dinner, but he decided against it when he tried to raise his ki and felt as if the veins in his head would explode. Warding off the urge to puke, the Saiyan knew he'd reached his limit for that day. So, bitter with the thought that she _still_ wasn't home, he marched back into the house. Grunting under his breath at the thought of her spending so much time with _Yamcha_ , he went upstairs to her room, and threw the light on. He approached her desk, eying the blueprints that had been left spread across its surface. He stood in silence as he studied them, and slowly he began to smirk. ' _Not bad - not bad at all.'_ He thought, dragging a finger across the page.

Just the same, he was pissed. At that moment she should have been sitting at her desk, tweaking out some of the formula errors and getting ready to bring the plans to reality. And instead, she'd spent the entire evening out.

_With **him**._

Restlessly pissed, Vegeta was laying awake in bed when, an hour later, he heard the car land in the house's driveway. He listened as its doors shut, her feet walking on the pavement towards the front door. It was about time she was home! _What had she been **doing**?! _ He couldn't put his finger on exactly why he was as upset as he was - but, then again, she'd been doing this to him like crazy as of late. The lump of rage he'd been plagued with was still thrashing inside his chest. All he knew was that he was beyond mad for her making him feel this way, and he wanted her to be aware of it. He could hear soft, careful footsteps making their way up the stairs...

.

Bulma pulled a tank top over her head and kicked her legs into a matching pair of shorts. It was her new favorite set out lounge clothes - the material was soft and thin, and it clung to her body in a way that hugged her curves without even feeling tight. Her mind was racing with the events of the day, and she walked to her desk to review the blue-prints she'd started on. There were three ideas that she had laid out, and she was still trying to decide which of them should be pursued.

_'Oh well.'_ She thought, turning to head for the door. She could wake up early the next day to make up for some of the lost time. It was late now, and there was no use in fussing over it. As for now, she was going to brush her teeth, and she was going to get some sleep. She poked her head into the hallway. It was dark and silent - everybody else in the house was undeniably long gone to their own dreams. With a breath of confidence she stepped out into the dark hall, making her way for the bathroom.

Despite that gloomy feeling that she had in knowing that Yamcha was hurting because of her, she felt great compared to the night before. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. She'd gotten it over with! She'd settled things with him for once and for all! The relief was so liberating, and she felt lighter and less troubled than she had in a very long time. The optimism of what awaited her the next day was making her grin uncontrollably and she quickly rinsed her mouth out, eager to get a good night of sleep! Even as she made her way back through the darkness of the hallway, all she could think of was _just_ how amazing it felt to no longer have the issue of Yamcha underlying her thoughts. Distracted with her giddiness, it was when she opened her bedroom door that she became so startled that she jumped. Nearly screaming, she choked herself off as she remembered that she didn't want to wake her parents.

It was none other than Vegeta, standing only a meter away from the door. His arms were predictably crossed, a dark scowl was planted on his face. "I was awake and heard you." He grunted, as if this explained everything. "I want an update on the progress of your assignment. **Now.** "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know this chapter was a little on the short side, but I just had to end it here! I promise, the next will make up for this. Be forewarned, though! This story is rated "Mature" for a reason. The next chapter may or may not require some reader discretion! (Hint hint) I can't be held responsible - I'm just a writer! :)


	6. Basic Instinct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was so short, and I couldn't keep you waiting too long! Thank you to all readers and everyone who provides feedback. It keeps me going!

Bulma's heart was stuck in her throat as she tried to calm herself. She had been so blissful and calm just a few seconds ago - and now? Now, Vegeta had not only just scared the _crap_ out of her, but he'd just said the _one_ thing that was sure to upset her and keep her up for at least another two hours. She glared, placing her hands on her hips. "You can't just...!" She started, but then stopped to prevent herself from yelling. _What the hell was **with** him? Couldn't this have waited until the morning?_

"That is, if you even started on your project at all." Vegeta continued as he made his way towards her. "Were you too busy prancing around with that weak man to even begin your assignment?"

"Hey!" Bulma snapped, trying her best to keep her voice down. The fact she was having to take his words and couldn't yell back only seemed to add to her exasperation. Where the hell was this _coming_ from, anyway? She'd warned him that she would have to go out that night! Why was he acting so hostile now? "I worked my _ass_ off on this before I left! After everything I've done for you, I deserve to take some time to myself!" She could have sworn that her eyes were turning red with fury. He didn't know anything about the day she'd just faced, or the terrible night she'd gone through in anticipation of it. He had _no idea_ what she'd done when she was out. How dare he talk down to her about it! Who was **_he_** to condescend _**her**?_

The anger that Vegeta had experienced - had been soaking in ever since he had learned of her plans with Yamcha - was now coming to a surface. He wanted Bulma to know what it was like to feel that way. He wanted to lash out, to prod her into a fit of rage. He wanted to make _her_ jealous. He wanted her to know _just_ how unacceptable it was to run off with Yamcha and abandon her responsibilities. "From now on, when you're working on an assignment, you'll _report to me_ before you go off-duty." He demanded, finding difficulty in getting a grip on this feeling that was stinging across his spine. "Do I make myself clear, Woman."

If only Bulma knew how to fire blasts from her palms like he did. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks! Struggling to keep from screaming out, she was nearly light-headed at this man's audacity. Trying to find words to express the resentment she was suddenly seething in. Who the _hell_ did he think he was? He'd always seemed to find amusement in his own pompous, outlook, but this was reaching an entirely new level! "I report to nobody other than myself." She hissed, narrowing her eyes. "We're going to make that clear, right _now._ I do not answer to my parents, their pets, and certainly not to _you."_ It was clear with her expression that he was succeeding in his attempts to enrage her, and secretly Vegeta was pleased. Perhaps now she'd know how he had felt when he was waiting for her to come home! He was ready to make another verbal strike, stepping towards her a little. However, as he moved even closer to the woman in front of him, a certain odor caught his attention. He paused to examine her figure, jaw tightening as he felt a rush come over his body

_She was wearing that same outfit as the night before._ And those _curves_ he'd always tried to avoid gazing at for too long - they weren't hidden under the cloth of her sleepwear at all! He studied her frame, his breath caught in his throat, and once again found himself thinking of how soft her skin looked. Bulma, who had no scars or calluses at all, looked like she might have the most delicate skin he'd ever imagined. She was tall, yet she was smaller than him - more petite, less bulky... and the _scent_. That fresh, sweet smell that he had noticed when she'd changed his sheets. She was _reeking_ of it, too! ' _What kind of odor is this?'_ He wondered. He could hear his own heart pounding in his ears, amazed at how overwhelmed his senses had suddenly become. _Oh, **wow -**_ he was painfully aware that his mind was slipping. Suddenly there was only one thing he could think of, and he was having trouble warding the thought off.

_Bulma could see the look in his eyes_.

He was staring at her as if he was lost in his own world, a yearning that gleamed in his pupils. As Bulma watched, the saiyan took another step closer, and she found herself forgetting about how upset she'd just been. Her mouth began to open with surprise. She knew what the look on his face meant - it was similar to the way Yamcha had looked at her when he was in one of his _moods._ But this _-_ the way Vegeta was staring at her now was far more determined than Yamcha had ever looked. As he stepped even closer, the Saiyan's nostrils flaring, his expression grew even more intense. Bulma couldn't help but to be flattered as she raised an eyebrow. He was already such a good looking man, and the tone that his face now wore only acted to make him even less resistable.

"Vegeta." She whispered, wondering if she could snap his gaze back to reality.

It didn't work. He was close enough to her now. He just reached out and grabbed her arms, holding them firmly at her sides. In his head the saiyan prince was watching himself - barking that he needed to stop. As intrigued as he was with her scent, the part of him that relished in pride was horrified by the things he wanted to do. He was above this weak Earth woman, after all! He was one of the last members of an ancient race, and he needed to be critically selective of who he chose to grant his body to. His blood was too worthy of her - he needed associate with creatures with far more strength!

_...Didn't he?_

As much as his ego yelled at him to let go and back away, he just couldn't seem to get a grip on himself. He had never been _so_ enticed by a woman's body before. Ever since he'd started staying in this household he'd been struggling with these desire, but always he had managed to keep himself composed. This time, as each second passed, he found the need to maintain control fading as instinct began to win. ' _Fuck it.'_ He finally thought. He wasn't in the mood to fight with his mind anymore.

_He was much too ravenous._

The saiyan lifted a muscular arm, allowing his hand to slide across the bone in her shoulder. Bulma could feel the rough of his fingertips tracing her skin, her eyes closing as chills ran down her spine. She could hear her heart in her ears now, disbelief that _this_ was actually happening. It was a moment she'd imagined plenty of times before. She'd had her share of waking up panting after unexpected dreams, but never had she believed this would actually happen. _Hadn't it just been the night before that she'd been depressed by her attraction to this man - thinking that he was the most hopeless person to yearn after_?

Where was this coming from _now?_

Bulma didn't have time to continue thinking. In the blink of an eye, Vegeta had decided to make his move. Suddenly she was being lifted off her feet. His lips clashed against her own, and she instinctively grabbed his shirt. Breathing through her nose, the Bluehead wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her across the room. She felt as he pressed her into a wall, the saiyan now hungrily sucking at her lower lip with determination. She let out a soft groan, rolling her eyes back and wrapping her arms around his neck. He smelled much more fresh than she'd imagined - _what was that scent he had on him? Pine trees?_

Her skin was _so soft - so smooth -_ and with each passing second Vegeta lost even more regard for his actions. He was losing himself to the feel of her touch - she was pressing herself into him, sternly kissing him back. Their tongues were now dancing, grazing against each other with mindless skill. Still holding her against the wall for support, he used his free hand to squeeze at her breast. Kami - they felt even _better_ than the skin around her frame! He began massaging his fingers into it, pressing his palm into the nipple that was only protected by a thin layer of clothing. How amazing it was that such a simple body part could be so firm, yet soft and cushioned at the same time. Holding this in his hand was unlike anything he could even try to compare it to - the way his fingers seemed to _sink_ into it as he rubbed. _warm..._ It went without saying that this was Vegeta's first time touching a woman in this way. His race had died out long before he was old enough to care about any acts like this, hadn't it? He'd spent his entire adolescence and adult life living on Frieza's ship with hundreds of other warriors, all of them brutes who were too stupid for him to care about associating with on any given day. He wouldn't have been caught dead going to brothels with any of that scum! Even when he was in the process of purging planets, he'd been following a strict schedule that didn't allow for such an endeavor. Not that he'd ever discovered a female that he thought to be worthy of such a thing - at least, not until now...

Now... _Now, Bulma was at his mercy._ Returning his gestures with grasps of her own, her hands only caused his lust to increase with each passing second. She was running her palms over Vegeta's back to show her enthusiasm, nail scratching across the skin. She'd only ever been intimate with Yamcha, and he certainly hadn't ever gone at her with such animalistic desire like Vegeta was. She'd never encountered anything like this, and she was certainly enjoying it! The way his rough palms held her. The confidence in his touch. His frame was toned and firm, and yet his chest was so soft. Still locked into a kiss, she bucked her hips into him and let out a low moan into his lips as encouragement.

The sound seemed to work - it set off another trigger for the Saiyan, who continued his exploration of her body. He dropped his hand from her breast and placed it on her thigh, rubbing in place momentarily as a low growl began to elicit from the back of his throat. Slowly he trailed his palm up her leg before settling on her rear, squeezing to see how firm it was.

_Oh, **yes...**_ Bulma grabbed a handful of his hair when he did this. She wanted more of him. This needed to keep going...

Vegeta explored her body just briefly, but it felt like much longer with how much she was enjoying it. Time seemed to freeze as she cherished every moment that his hands ran over her hips, trailed across her breasts, and teasingly slid over her core. Still in disbelief that this was happening, she didn't want to take _any_ of it for granted. Vegeta, the closed off man who she'd been trying to get attention from for months... The _prince_ of saiyans, was holding himself against her?

_Her?_

His touch wasn't quite careful. It was a stern and determined, like everything Vegeta did. _That_ was just in his character. And though his fingers felt rough, sometimes causing her to gasp out loud from the intensity, she knew it wasn't his intention. Before Bulma realized it, they were wrestling with one another on the floor. Their lips nearly fighting for dominance, she rolled on top of him only for him to push her aside and roll on top of _her._ With a hiss, she pressed her hand against his chest and pushed him back down. She managed to sit up on his lap just long enough to pull her shirt off, tossing it to the side. Vegeta let out a relieved sigh when he _finally_ saw _them -_ bare and perky with all their beauty, and right in front of his hungry eyes. There was no wretched fabric to ruin the view anymore... And how good it felt when pushed her back on the floor and climbed on top, placing his face against those naked breasts! He couldn't help but to grin against her flesh when he brushed his lips across a nipple and heard her consequential gasp. Even as he suckled, he could feel as goosebumps began to creep across her skin. Bulma, her head thrown back, was beside herself with pleasure, hoping that the moment wouldn't end. The next thing she knew he had removed his face from her chest. Vegeta, breathing heavily with anticipation, was positioning himself between her legs. Bulma was clutching the saiyan's toned arms, her eyes closed, chest heaving with the knowledge of what was about to happen.

The pain she felt when Vegeta sank into her was only momentary. Almost like the first time she'd been in such a situation, he was much more large than she could have imagined, filling her in such a way that her body had to adjust to fit. Vegeta let out a low groan into her ear, grabbing her waist as he moved. He was holding himself on top of her, his arms resting on either side of her head. She coiled against his frame, sinking her teeth into his shoulder to keep from shouting out at the sensation. The last thing she needed in that moment was to wake her parents. She was biting pretty hard as he moved against her, but the saiyan didn't care. He could withstand so many attacks from creatures that she couldn't even begin to fathom, and the feeling of her lowering her teeth into his shoulder actually worked to add fuel to his fire. Bulma felt his body surrounding her, enclosing her, and she knew she was safe under him. His arms were a barrier that could protect her from _anything_ that tried to threaten her, and they both knew it. The friction of his thrusts made her grab at his back, scratch at it, gripping for more. She couldn't bring herself to open her eyes or lift her head as he worked, too lost in her own bliss. She rocked with his body, moving her hips against his to return the favor, his arms never leaving their position on either side of her head.

It was hard. It was intense. At this point Vegeta had one goal in mind, unable to resist or think of anything else. He hadn't felt anything so warm or urgent... There truly _was_ nothing he could compare it to. How could he? This was something he had long ago lost his mind to, all actions based on instinct and the desire to feel even _more_. To experience _more_ of her body. To sink even deeper.

The excitement - the sensation of his skin rubbing against hers. His pulsing member scratching itches that she didn't even _know_ she had... It was all proving to be too much. With one last thrust from Vegeta's determined hips, Bulma's eyes shot open and she ripped a nail into his back, staring desperately at the ceiling up above as she desperately tried to keep from crying. It took everything she had to keep quiet as the climax crashed through her core, biting into his shoulder and offering a muffled moan. Even in the height of her pleasure, the Bluehead couldn't deny the dreadful feeling that was building inside. _She wasn't ready for this to end. Oh, no, this couldn't be over yet..._

The feeling of Bulma's body shaking and trembling against him was good enough. But when she moaned that last time, he couldn't contain himself anymore. Vegeta threw his head back as he reached his own edge, letting out a sheer gasp of ecstasy with one last thrust, slowly dropping his body against her own. Together they lay, a bundle of sweaty limbs, gasping for air as they came back to reality and registered the scene. His chest pressed into hers as he panted, his face buried into her shoulder. Bulma wrapped her arms around his neck to pull his forehead against her own. She knew he was going to get up and leave at any moment, and she was lamenting this inevitable task. She could see it in his eyes as his mind came back - she could feel it as his breaths became less shallow...

...He had satisfied his impulses. He'd allowed himself to take the Earth Woman. Now he was laying on top of her, still _inside_ her, and he was trying to think of what to do. Still blissful - perhaps even _grateful_ for their moment - he thoughtlessly planted an affectionate kiss on her forehead. _Kami, that was good..._

… She tried to stop him from doing it by tightening her hold, but he lifted himself off and sat back. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, licking his lips dryly. His muscular chest was still heaving from his actions, his body saturated with sweat. "Vegeta.." She whispered, sitting up weakly to join him. She hadn't realized how truly _intense_ the ordeal had been, but now she could feel the pain along her stomach and thighs. ' _That is going to bruise.'_ She thought, flinching at the jolt she got just from moving.

The ecstasy had worn off, and he was now truly realizing just what he had just done. He had let his impulses get the best of him, and now Bulma was staring at his naked body. Feeling awkward, he pulled himself off the ground and wiped again at his forehead. "I've got training to do in the morning." He grunted, feeling almost shy, unable to believe that he'd _actually_ lost control. Bulma was suddenly feeling somewhat timid, herself. She grabbed at her clothes and sloppily pulled them back onto her body. She didn't even care that they were inside out. "I think I need to shower.." She whispered, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that was growing between them. Vegeta was already standing, and he wordlessly took her hand to help her to her feet. She grimaced at the feel of her muscles tightening when she stood up. He turned his back to her so he could pull his own clothes back on. "Did I hurt you?" Vegeta asked as he dressed, remembering how strong he was compared to the Earthling. He tried to ask it as casually as possible, but she could hear concern in his voice.

"No," Bulma breathed. It was a lie. She was thinking about the mess between her legs, and she mentally cursed herself. It had happened _so fast,_ and she had failed to get Vegeta to use protection. She couldn't help but think though, that even if she had mentioned it, it wouldn't have done any good. With the urgency they acted in, she doubted they would have taken the time to make _those_ accommodations. The Bluehead stepped to the door, her thighs tense from the shock of being grabbed at and pressed so hard into the ground. Vegeta walked with her, noting how she limped beside him. It was clear that she was in pain - she was terrible at lying. She couldn't hide it when she moved so stiffly. He had thought to hold himself back, knowing his strength, but he obviously hadn't done enough. He'd gone at her too hard. He'd handled her too rough. At the time he was restraining himself, but hadn't considered that her body needed far more delicacy than he was providing. He'd been too distracted, too focused on _other_ things... And now there was a strange sense of regret.

_What the hell was this?_

He wasn't accustomed to the vulnerability that he felt during such circumstances. He didn't know what to do. Inside he thought of taking her into his arms to make sure she was okay, but as soon as that thought crossed his mind he snapped himself out of it. What was _happening_ to him? Why should he care about her at _all?_ She hadn't objected to his actions! If she was in pain, it was just as much her fault!

_...Wasn't it?_

Fighting with his ego was one of the toughest things he could ever face, and he didn't know how to manage it. He was starting to feel frustrated from it all, pissed that he'd let himself get into this mess. "Get some rest." He finally said. No - it wasn't just a statement. It was an _order._ He left her then, puffing his chest out as he walked down the hall towards his room.

He couldn't believe it. He hadn't just _indulged_ in her body - he'd _mated_ with her! He'd shared his royal body with this simple Woman, allowed her to indulge in his flesh! Did it make things worse that he had enjoyed it so much, too? Vegeta was starting to feel ill, running a hand through his spiky hair. He wasn't so sure how he would get any sleep, himself.


	7. Bulma's Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've been reading (especially if you've been reading since Anyone But Him), I hope you found chapter 6 to be refreshing. Thanks for the support and lovely comments! I appreciate them all!

* * *

Bulma would have liked to have been able to say she had a great sleep after her eventful night. Her dreams about Vegeta had, quite literally, come true, and their encounter had been exhausting on her body. The truth was, though, she felt restless. Even after a shower, which normally calmed her, she lay in bed and replayed the encounter with the feisty saiyan several times in her head. Still in shock, she went back and forth between wondering if it had been real, to giddy excitement that he obviously had _wanted_ to do that with _her._ It all occurred so fast, and she wished it had lasted longer. _If only they could have dragged the act out through the entire night..._

As she lay in bed, Bulma could feel as the pain she'd been experiencing in her thighs slowly crept through the rest of her body up her body, radiating across her abs and moving through her upper torso. Even after she fell asleep, the pain prevented her from entering into a deep rest. She was stuck between dreams and reality, her body constantly reminding her that she'd done something wrong...

… She wasn't feeling much better the next morning. Although she was in great spirits, she could hardly lift herself out of bed. The feeling was almost as if she had pushed herself too hard during a workout and was sore the next day, but the intensity was worse than anything she ever could have inflicted on her body with simple weights. Nevertheless, she managed to drag herself out of bed and force herself into a set of clothes. As she was changing, she looked down at her figure and noticed bruising forming along the same areas that had been causing her the most pain. The focal point was on her legs and stomach, but there were lighter finger shaped hues trickling across her arms. Where he had first grabbed her.

"Bulma, are you alright?!" Mrs. Briefs cried when she saw her daughter dragging herself into the kitchen. Bulma had dressed into pants and a long sleeve shirt in order to hide the marks. She had been _so_ determined to act as naturally as possible, and it obviously hadn't worked. The Bluehead stiffly took a seat at the table, nodding weakly. "I just... pushed myself too hard the other day when I was doing squats!"

 _'She'll never buy that'_ , Bulma thought.

Mrs. Briefs nodded. _She bought it._ "Oh dear, you push yourself _so_ hard. I don't see why, you're a lovely girl!" She sang, placing a plate of food on the table. "There isn't a _bit_ of fat on ya! You should take it easy! By the way, want some tea?"

_._

After breakfast Bulma pulled herself back upstairs. Vegeta had been locked away in the ship since she had woken, and she couldn't bring herself to go looking for him. All she wanted to do was hug him and talk to him after the moment that they had shared, but she knew that wasn't going to happen. The saiyan didn't appreciate when his training was interrupted, so it wasn't a good time. He was also likely to act reserved about the matter, anyway. Her body was aching too much to venture on a futile trip. She needed to wait until he came to her. And, despite how eager she was to see him again, she was okay with waiting. She had work to do, anyway. The Bluehead took a heavy seat at her desk and began to review the blueprints she had made, adding tweaks to it and completely removing certain details altogether. Bulma struggled with her concentration when she first started, with how badly her body was hurting and with Vegeta stuck on her mind, but she quickly found her focus and the time began to speed by. By the time it was 2 in the afternoon she was feeling so confident in her plans that she gathered a few tools and began the work on a prototype.

The rest of the day flew by, Bulma stubbornly tweaking away at the skeleton of a bot she'd created. When she heard her mother calling to her about dinner she pushed her chair back, cracking her knuckles. She knew it was going to be a struggle to stand up, but she hadn't realized how hard it would truly be. The aches she was experiencing hurt even worse now. _Way worse_ than they had in the morning. She had been so distracted with her work that she didn't even realize as her muscles bruised even more. And now, as she tried to stand, her legs gave into an intense cramp. She was so shocked that she let out a cry of agony, her arms giving out as she fell over her desk with a bang.

"Bulma, honey?"

Her arms trembling, the Bluehead struggled to push herself back up. She could hear footsteps rushing up the stairs as she inhaled, the cramps in her legs tightening. She had her back turned when the door flew open, and heard as someone ran to her side.

"Oh, baby!" _It was her Mom._ "Are you still hurting?"

Her grasp on the desk softening, the Bluehead blew a slow draw of air from her lungs. Her legs seemed as if they may have adjusted to her standing position. They were both still cramping, but the tension was easing up. "Ah, well.. you know what they say..." Bulma was searching for an excuse. The right words. Some kind of explanation! "They say... that when you really push yourself during a workout..." She flinched. "...It hurts the most after two days... and it's almost been... _two days_.." She was almost feeling light-headed from the ordeal. The stress her body was under had caused her brain to release high levels of endorphins, and even though she was still hurting, she was feeling calmer. Her legs were only pulsing with the soft throb of a cramp now, no longer in such agonizing pain. She wondered if she could try to walk now. Bulma slowly attempted to move her leg out so that she could ease off of the desk.

Bad choice.

" _Ahh_!" She let out a wail, falling over her desk again and gripping the edge of its surface. The sudden movement she inflicted on her legs had caused her muscles to regress into a full-blown cramp. The muscles contracted tightly under her skin, with even more intensity than the last round, and it was then that she finally gave in and let out a sob. She had had enough with trying to be tough for one day. "Mom," She whimpered, her eyes clenched shut. " _It's terrible!_ "

It was at this point that Mrs. Briefs softly grabbed Bulma's shoulder and tried to pull her up. "Oh dear, let's just get you into bed and-"

"No!" Bulma choked. The movement just made it worse. Any move she made only seemed to anger her own muscles, and the Bluehead didn't want to try to walk anymore. She felt that all she could do was stay as still as possible and wait for it all to pass.

"Oh dear, I'm only trying to help!" Mrs. Briefs said sadly. She hated to see her daughter in pain!

"Both are my legs are cramping!" Bulma tried to explain through a cry. Her eyes were still clamped shut, she was gritting her teeth as tears ran down her cheeks. She had encountered charley-horses before, but this was unlike any other. She _knew_ it had to do with her encounter with Vegeta the night before. Her body was just in shock from it, and it needed to heal!

"Now, now, be careful with Bulma, dear. If she moves her legs it'll only make things worse." The Bluehead could hear her Dad chime in from the door. "I used to get those all the time when I wasn't eating enough potassium."

It was then that Bulma felt a pair of rough hands wrap around her waist and lift her off the desk. The change in her weight distribution was enough to trigger her angry legs, and she whimpered at the intensified convulsions. She was being carried, bridal style, across the room, in too much pain to really think much about it. She pressed her face into the body of whoever was carrying her and desperately grasped at their shirt, as if begging them to somehow fix the situation.

_Pine..._

That scent was familiar, but she was too overwhelmed to register what it meant.

She felt herself being placed on her bed and she grabbed at the pillow underneath her head. She needed something to squeeze. Despite her agony, it made a world's difference to have her weight taken off her legs. She forced her eyes open and looked up. "Vegeta?" She breathed. It was only now that she realized she'd been legitimately crying, and she wiped away the tears with the back of her arm. Vegeta was standing over her, silently staring into her eyes. His expression was firm, but he had a faraway glare in his eyes as if he was lost in thought.

Mrs. Briefs had clapped her hands together and was happily cheering in the background. "Oh Vegeta! What a nice boy you are! We would never have been able to do that! My husband has a bad back and I'm just an petite little lady, ya know!" Mrs. Briefs giggled. Now all Bulma had to do was worry about getting rest, and she would be feeling better in no time! It was a mother's best relief!

"Yes, thank you Vegeta. If I had tried to help her I would have had to be bedridden, myself." Her dad added.

"Oh! Now I'll go prepare a tray and bring you up some food, how does that sound? You just need to eat a big meal and get some rest!" Mrs. Briefs was already running to the door, her husband following behind. "I'll come check on you later, dear." He promised before the two disappeared into the hall.

The Bluehead hadn't even looked up at her parents throughout this scene. She hadn't once taken her eyes away from Vegeta's, her lip quivering with pain as they watched each other. Once they were both alone, the Saiyan finally spoke. "You said I didn't hurt you."

"I guess I was wrong." Bulma replied with a coy smile. She took the opportunity to pull up her shirt, revealing her abs. "I can't bring myself to look... is it bad? I had some marks on my stomach and legs this morning..."

Vegeta's eyes widened. Her lower stomach had several areas that were decorated with black and blue spots. The spots seemed to form a pattern, and he recognized them as his hand prints. Hand prints over her torso, handprints on her hips where he had grabbed at her when he was thrusting inside for the first time... He snatched her shirt and pulled it back down, shielding that body from his eyes. He didn't enjoy knowing that the state she was in was caused by _him_. He hadn't meant it - he'd lost control. And now she couldn't even get out of bed. He hadn't even been able to keep from hurting her. As if that was bad enough, the sight of her curves and memories of the night before were giving him a rush again, even if he _was_ concerned.

"I'll be alright," Bulma sighed. She tried to force a laugh to lighten the mood. "I just think body is still in shock. I guess I should let it heal a little more before I move around too much."

She looked back up to him for a reaction and froze. Vegeta still had that stern expression on his face, but there was something else in his eyes now. Was it... _concern_? He held his hand out and brushed it against her face, an act so unlike him. She closed her eyes, wrapping her fingers around his wrist and nuzzling her cheek into his palm. "I don't regret what we did." She whispered, as if he had been wondering this. She felt his hand tense from her words... Was it surprise? _Relief_?

She could hear the sounds of her parents downstairs and knew that they were getting ready to come back up at any second. Bulma opened her eyes again to give Vegeta another assuring smile. Sure enough, now that she was looking at his face, he appeared to be completely taken aback by her confession. "Please come back after you eat. I want to talk." She said. _Pleading._ The saiyan didn't respond. He just watched her, struggling with the emotion that was overcoming him. The two stayed like that, her holding his palm to her cheek as she nestled into it, him looking at her with deep eyes. Bulma still felt light-headed from the endorphins, and she was starting to feel the weight from two sleepless nights in a row. It was when she could hear her parents' footsteps making their way up the stairs that she had released her grip from the saiyan prince, turning her head as the fatigue won.

"Oh? She fell asleep?" Mrs. Briefs asked, setting the dinner tray on the bedside table next to the Bluehead. "Poor baby was crying just a few minutes ago! She must be feeling so much better already!"

.

After dinner Vegeta made his way to Bulma's room, just as she had asked him to do. She was still laying on her back, her head turned to the side as she quietly slept. The untouched tray of food still resting on the table beside her. Her chest slowly bounced as she dozed, her breaths soft and light. Vegeta took a careful seat beside her on the bed, staring at her sleeping figure. The mattress creaked under the weight of his body, but this didn't seem to disturb Bulma at all. The saiyan watched her, replaying the night before in his mind for what may have been the thousandth time. He had been aware of his feelings for her for awhile now, but he had simply been ignoring them. Last night had been another story. He'd lost control, and now... Now he really couldn't deny that there wasn't something about this Earth Woman...

He hadn't ever met anyone like Bulma. She refused to treat him as anybody other than her equal. When she had first seen him on Namek she had cowered before him, but it didn't take long for her to seem to forget about that fear. Even when Vegeta angrily reminded her of his violent streak and tried to intimidate her, it seemed to bounce right off her shoulders. She was the _only_ person he had met that hadn't treated him as a servant, like Frieza, or as a monster, like everyone else... When Vegeta spoke to Bulma he always felt so conflicted. He liked the normality she treated him with, how unusually comfortable she was to be around. Yet it all so completely different from what he knew during the life he lived as a ruler of destruction.

He always felt like he was having an existential crisis when he was near her. Even when he had hurt her so badly that she couldn't walk, she had acted like it wasn't a big deal. She just laughed it off, as if it were a joke. _As if she completely understood._

Vegeta had been sitting beside her for several minutes before he slowly moved to place a hand on her face. It felt cold. The Bluehead had been laying uncovered, having been placed on top of her blanket. He considered trying to move her under the covers, but decided against it when he realized that it might cause her legs to act up again. So he stood, walked to his room, and pulled the blanket off his bed - the same down comforter she had been so excited about a few days earlier.. _._

The Bluehead let out a happy sigh as she curled into the heavy blanket after Vegeta placed it on top of her. She had helped him rest when he had pushed himself too hard while training, this was the least he could do. He turned, leaving her to her dreams, and he walked across the room to her desk. He noted the blueprints, much more advanced than the day before. He glaced at the figure of a robot that had been left half-completed. A smile traced Vegeta's lips as he inspected it. "Good girl..."

With one last look as the cozy Bluehead, the Saiyan retreated to his own room for the night. He was going to have to wake up extra early the next morning. He needed to train twice as hard in order to sooth this racing mind.


	8. Vegeta's Accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to have access to my computer for awhile, so I wanted to go ahead and post a few chapters now. Enjoy!

* * *

The first thing Bulma thought of when she woke up was that her stomach was growling. The second thing she noted was that the sun was shining into her room, and the third was the realization that she had fallen asleep. "What?!" She gasped, suddenly sitting up. Disappointed that she hadn't been able to speak with Vegeta like she had hoped, she jumped from the blankets. Her body still ached, but felt considerably better after getting a full night's rest. She was so upset that she scurried from the room, not even paying notice to the blanket Vegeta had left for her.

She ran into the kitchen to find a note from her mother posted on the fridge.

_**'Had to go out today. We need new curtains and groceries.'** _

"What a weird combo?" Bulma commented before wadding up the note and throwing it away. "Cereal for me, I guess."

.

Vegeta had been in the ship for hours already that morning. Growing increasingly frustrated with his training over the last few weeks, he didn't feel that he was making enough progress at all. Defeated, he let out a frustrated yell, lowering himself into a squatting position and starting a power up. " **I need to be a Super Saiyan!** " He barked, grinning as he felt his ki burst through its plateau and raise even higher. Then, just as all the other attempts had ended, he was on the floor and fighting to catch his breath. " _ **Damnit!**_ " He screamed, punching his fist into the floor beneath him. Training in this ship was getting old, his racing thoughts were getting old, and Vegeta was pissed. At night he was content to relax and enjoy the life he had acquired, but during the day he would realize how far behind he was because of it, and it angered him immensely. Each day that passed without him unlocking the secret to becoming a Super Saiyan felt wasted, and he was losing the ability to tolerate such a fate.

What was it? What was he doing _wrong?!_

Bulma was finishing up a bowl of cereal when Vegeta came barging in. She put her spoon down and cleared her throat, preparing herself for his mood. She could hear the way he was walking, and she knew that he must have been having a bad day in the ship.

" **Earth Woman**!" He bellowed, catching sight of her sitting at the table. Secretly he was glad to note that she was obviously feeling better, but she needed to be working on his equipment. He was tired of everyone acting so _damned_ relaxed around here!

She just watched him and raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to explain the reasoning behind his outburst.

" _ **What is the progress on your assignment?!**_ " He barked, despite the fact that he already knew the answer from looking at her desk the night before.

Bulma crossed her arms. "Hello, Vegeta!" She snapped back. "Nice to see you, too! I'm fine, by the way! Thanks for asking!" _What the hell was his problem?!_ Just a few hours ago he had been - well, almost sweet to her!

With a muttered curse, Vegeta turned and shot a blast at the window as a way to cope with his rage. The glass popped, and a tree in the distance exploded from the impact. Bulma would have backed away from the surprise - if she hadn't already been sitting down. "Hey! You can't just do stuff like that!"

"I'm getting nowhere, you hear me!" Vegeta yelled, not acknowledging her reaction. Bulma stood and carried her dishes to the sink. "I'll finish soon enough! I just woke up!" She snapped back. She understood he'd been having a bad day, but Vegeta really needed to get the stick out of his ass before she shoved another one in there.

"The first day you were given this task, you went off with that Yamcha fool!" The saiyan was ranting now. "Yesterday you fell asleep early, and now! Now, you've already woken up late, and you're indulging in a time-consuming meal instead of working! I woke up at 4 this morning to train! I take my progress seriously, Woman!"

 _That was it._ Bulma suddenly lost the ability to humor his temper. Ignoring the tight feeling in her thighs as she moved, she spun around to face the man that was yelling at her. "Oh, really?! And **why** is it that I fell asleep so early yesterday? **Why** was it that I felt terrible, but worked my ass of for you all day regardless?" She was pointing a finger at him, taking angry steps towards as she spat. "It's not _my_ fault that you decided I needed to drop everything and build you a machine on the same day that I was planning to officially break things off with Yamcha! I had preexisting plans, so get over it!"

It was always oddly refreshing for Vegeta when Bulma was yelling at him. On one hand, it made him want to put her in her place - to establish authority. But, on the other hand, he was so used to people cowering anytime he even strained a muscle in their direction. The shock of her shouts was always enough to make him listen to what she was saying, and he was starting to catch his breath enough to realize that he probably _had_ been a bit too harsh. In fact, he was even a bit amused to hear of the nature of her meeting with Yamcha. This wasn't the first time she had announced that she'd broken things off with him. But, especially after the night he had shared with her, Vegeta knew things with that scar-face were _finally_ concluded. By the time it all registered and the saiyan had thought of a response, Bulma was already storming from the kitchen and marching upstairs. "You want your damned training equipment so bad? Fine! I'll work on your _fucking_ training equipment!" He listened as her feet stomped across the hall, and her bedroom door slammed shut.

Now Vegeta was not only angered with the progress he'd been making, but he also had royally _angered_ the Bluehead. It only added to his frustrations to know that she was so pissed at him, and she had a good reason for it. _Why did it matter? Why should he care about what she thought of him?_ There was a sickening feeling in his stomach, and a strange instinct to go after her and try to make things right. It would have been so simple for him to rush upstairs and compliment her for the Blueprints he had seen. But, then, why _should_ he? She didn't require compliments - she had only done what was demanded of her!

_It was her job!_

Why should he feel the urge to commend her for doing what was expected?! Vegeta's biceps were trembling as he stormed into the ship. Still beside himself with anger and still distracted by the woman working upstairs, he grabbed the dial to the gravity machine. He needed to work so hard that he forgot about his failed progress. He needed to work so hard that he forgot about _her._ Without putting much thought into his actions, he set the machine to 120, which was quite a stark difference from the level 50 that he normally worked with.

All too quickly he understood the grave mistake he'd made.

 _'Oops.'_ Was the only word that he had time to think. The effects of the heightened gravity were immediate, his insides quivering to adjust. His had head had instantly begun to throb, his bones shaking as his body began to slowly sink towards the ground. Vegeta caught himself in a squatting position, fighting to stay upright with all his stregnth. The gravity continued pulling at him, and he fought to push himself back. For a few seconds Vegeta thought he was overcoming it, that he could manage to take a few steps towards the machine to power it off, but suddenly he felt his weight give out. His eyes widened, knowing fully well that he would never be able to get himself back up if he fell. He groaned, feeling miserably foolish as his head came into contact with the the hard ground.

* * *

" _Bulmaaa_!" Mrs. Briefs sang across the hall. The vexed Bluehead slammed her screwdriver down on her desk, not caring for the sudden interruption. She had been making a few adjustments to the robot she had been working on, and clapped its back door shut. She was secretly pleased with her work, but she also resented it. _Vegeta wasn't even going to appreciate it_. He didn't deserve her effort! She walked downstairs to see her mother standing over the stove, pouring soup into four bowls. "Baby, go get Vegeta please!"

The scene registered in her mind and her eyes went wide. "What?" She asked, realizing that dinner was ready. _Dinner?!_ She looked out the window. It was pitch-dark outside. "What time is it?!"

"Oh, did you sleep in honey? I'm glad you're feeling better today!" Mrs. Briefs giggled, without answering her daughter's question.

Bulma eyed the clock in the wall and noted that it was already 8:30. When Bulma was angry her concentration always intensified. It was good for her productivity, but she had completely lost track of time. She had been sitting at her desk for almost 10 hours! It wasn't just the fact that she'd lost track of time that worried Bulma - it was also that she hadn't even heard the Saiyan's voice since their dispute that morning. She nodded to her Mom and shrugged, running for the door. "I'll grab Vegeta!"

When she got to the ship she gave the spaceship's door a gentle knock, but Vegeta didn't answer. She knocked again. "Hey! Just because we-"

" _ **Don't come in!**_ " She heard Vegeta's strained voice yell from inside. He sounded breathless, perhaps even distressed, and it instantly set her nerves on fire. She quickly clicked open the door, and she jumped when she saw him. Vegeta was laying so flat on the floor that it almost appeared as if he were molding into the tile, the gravity machine humming angrily from being strained for so long. Bulma suppressed a scream by putting a hand to her mouth, peering into the ship for another look. He was hurt - he was hurt, and there was no telling how long he'd been in a condition like that!

She tried to think fast as she bounced her weight from foot to foot. There was a remote that her dad had prepared for emergencies. It had been designed to break the circuit of anything with the Capsule Corp stamp of approval. "I'll be right back!" She called, turning to run towards the house. Bulma's entire body was throbbing with pain as she ran - her own muscles hadn't fully healed - but she couldn't pay attention to that now. Vegeta was hurt!

"Dad!" She wailed, running into the house. "Help!"

.

Less than five minutes later Dr. Briefs had pressed a large red button on his remote, and he nodded at Bulma that it was safe to step inside. She broke into a run through the spaceship and dropped to her knees beside the saiyan, pulling his head into her lap. His eyes were closed, his jaw clenched. "How long were you laying like that?" She breathed, her voice trembling. She could feel the tears coming, flashbacks of the ship explosion playing in her head. Vegeta opened his eyes and took a large gulp of air. With his ribs pressing down into his lungs, he had been struggling to breathe since he had fallen, but the release of pressure was allowing him to catch his breath.

Dr. Briefs entered the spaceship and stepped beside his daughter. "Do you need help standing?" He asked. He spoke calmly, as if he weren't surprised by the ordeal. As if it was just another one of _those_ days. Bulma and her Dad helped to hoist Vegeta up, each offering struggled support as the Saiyan caught his balance. Bulma felt a lump stuck in her throat from the shock of the scene, and with her dad they assisted Vegeta into the house and upstairs. Once in his room, Vegeta broke free from the two and faceplanted onto the bed. Dr. Briefs groaned. " _Well,_ that probably wasn't so good for my back." He turned to Bulma, noting the terror on her face, before looking back at Vegeta. "My boy, you're going to give _her_ a heart attack one day. Any more accidents like this and we'll have to get you insured." And, with that, he turned and limped out of the room, muttering something about needing a _chiropractor_...

With her father gone, Bulma went to the Saiyan's side and grabbed his hand. She felt the tears falling down her cheeks, unable to fight them any longer. "You can't keep doing things like this to yourself." She whispered, her voice cracking into a sob. Vegeta closed his eyes and took a deep breath, appreciating once again how easy it was to use his lungs. He had acted rashly, and it was stupid. He'd done it because he'd been pissed about upsetting _her,_ and he couldn't bring himself to to admit it. Not even as she cried. "I need to make progress." He grunted, trying to avoid looking into her eyes.

"How is _this_ progress?!" She hissed, letting herself fall over Vegeta's body. She hugged his torso, burying her face into his chest, wiping her eyes on his shirt. "I was so scared! Seeing you like that!" She picked her face back up to look at his face, but the Saiyan couldn't return her gaze. Vegeta just bit his lip as the Woman clung to him, focusing on a spot of dirt he'd found on the ceiling.

She was surprised at how emotional she'd suddenly become, and she closed her mouth. She could hear her mom preparing a dinner tray downstairs. It would only be a matter of minutes before Mrs. Briefs came upstairs with food. She needed to pull herself together.

"You push yourself so hard." She whispered. "I'm almost done with the bot but _please_ , I can't keep seeing you get hurt like this... You have to start being easier on yourself."

* * *

"Knock knock," Bulma sang, walking in with another tray of food. This had been the sixth helping so far. Mrs. Briefs was downstairs, singing to herself as she washed the dirty pots in the kitchen sink.

Vegeta was sitting up in bed with a tray of used dishes on his lap. Bulma smiled as she switched the them out, setting the used tray on the bedside table. "How do you feel?" She asked, taking a seat beside him. Vegeta didn't respond as his hungrily worked on the food in his lap. Bulma watched patiently, and when he set his empty bowl down she repeated herself. "Vegeta. _How do you feel?_ "

"Better." He replied curtly, straightening his posture.

That's great!" The Bluehead said earnestly, feeling relieved that he seemed to be recovering so fast. She sat in silence, watching him for a response. The air between the two was a bit awkward, and Vegeta eyed her suspiciously. Now that he was bedridden, she certainly had the chance to seek revenge for what had happened that morning! She could strike him if she wanted to...

"I think I'll finish our little project tomorrow." She offered, interrupting that Saiyan's thought process. Vegeta smirked. "Good. I'll be ready to train with it in the morning."

"You think so?" Bulma's smiled quickly disappeared. She stood up and took the tray from Vegeta's lap, setting it next to the other one on the table. She moved back to the bed and sat down closer to Vegeta, wrapping her arms around him. She lay her head on his shoulder softly and inhaled his scent. _Pine._ She was starting to grow rather fond of pine trees... "Just so you know." She whispered in his ear. "I am working on this assignment because I _want_ to, and not because you _told_ me to."

Vegeta grunted, his posture stiff. The Earth Woman was cuddling into him. What was _this?_ Was she _trying_ to make him uncomfortable? To get his guard down before striking her revenge?

"We didn't get to talk last night." The Bluehead was saying now. Vegeta was looking at her from the side of his eye, waiting to see what was about to happen. Bulma didn't continue, though. She had paused, looking at him expectantly, waiting for his own reply. "...Yes?" Vegeta finally offered.

Evidently that was all she required, for the Woman finally continued. "What do you think of... what happened between us?" She put a hand over his chest.

"It was..." Vegeta's breath caught. What kind of game was this? "It was... Nice?"

The Bluehead seemed even more satisfied now! She nuzzled her head into his shoulder, a wide smile on her face. "I think so, too. Even if it hurt. I liked it." Bulma noted that her thighs were still aching from her running earlier, but ignored them. They didn't feel _too_ bad. "I liked it a _lot."_

It was moments like this when he struggled with his ego the most. All of the walls he had learned to build up on Frieza's ship felt like an anchor that weighed him down, and the Woman seemed to only make him more confused. He hated moments like this. It had been much easier to confront his feelings when Bulma was asleep and wasn't _watching_ him, waiting for some kind of proclamation. Hesitantly, unsure of what to do, Vegeta moved his arm. He reached up to offer her hair a light stroke. Bulma seemed to sink deeper into his body when he did this. She sighed, closing her eyes and tightening her arms around him. It was obvious that she enjoyed the feel of her hair being groomed, and Vegeta was happy that she was content without him having to make any extreme verbal statements.

_However, he suddenly felt a jolt as she let out another sigh into his ear._

The feeling of Bulma's hair, her head pressing into his shoulder, her warm body closing in on his. He could feel the soft of her breasts squeezing against his arm, her smooth skin caressing his own... _'Damnit!'_ He thought, a rush coming over his body. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. He couldn't even fight the temptation - he'd lost all hope of resistance _the last time_ he'd given in.

_It was happening again!_


	9. Way Too Soon

* * *

Bulma re-arranged herself to curl into Vegeta's body more comfortably, now cuddling with him rather than resting against his frame. Her head laying on his chest, she inhaled that deep scent of his that she found so alluring. She felt as his arm snaked around her waist, his other palm pressing into her back as he worked. The Bluehead was still amazed at the concept of being in _his_ arms - of all people! It was so unlike his character to allow for such an intimate moment, and she wondered how long he'd allow them to stay in this compromised position before his ego caught up with him and he found an excuse to put an end to it.

Her heart was pounding in her ears, noting that his arm was growing stiff as he held her. "Are you okay?" She asked, not moving her head from his chest. Vegeta didn't reply. In fact, he didn't even move - he just remained frozen in place. It was clear to her that he was struggling with something, and she began to feel uneasy. Perhaps the moment had finally come that he'd ask her to stop hugging him. "Vegeta?" Bulma asked, pulling back to look at his face. When she saw his expression she immediately recognized it, much to her amused relief. He had that strong look of desire on his face again, deep thought reflecting in his eyes... "We can't do anything." She hissed, trying to keep her voice down. She could hear her parents moving around downstairs. He was leaning towards her now, his pupils seeming to pierce her skin as he looked her over. She felt her cheeks growing warm. "You're hurt..."

"I'm a Saiyan." He replied without even blinking. "Hurt? This is _nothing._ " His voice was low - deep. There was that _hungry_ tone to it that he'd spoken with two nights earlier. Bulma wanted to argue with him, to tell him he needed to get more rest, but she found herself rather intrigued. "What about me?" She asked coyly. "What if _I_ get hurt?"

Vegeta's rough hand was now slowly swaying up and down her back, causing chills to run down her spine as she smiled. Who could really blame her for feeling giddy at the idea that he wanted her - he wanted to do _it_ with _her!_ A _gain!_ He'd been to countless stretches of the universe, was powerful enough to claim victory in almost any fight - hell, he had even been a _prince_ on his native planet! He could have chosen anyone to share such an act with, and yet he had chosen _her_... It was too surreal, too enticing of an opportunity to simply pass up. Bulma placed her hand on Vegeta's stomach, starting a circular rub to show her approval. She could feel the tightness of his muscles though his shirt. ' _He is amazing.'_ She thought, her own stomach tightening as she grew excited.

The feel of Bulma's hands was proving to be too much for Vegeta - _again_. He had less patience to commence their passion than he had the previous time, and he couldn't fight his urges anymore. He quickly grabbed Bulma's face to hold it in place before pressing his lips against hers with ferocity. Bulma closed her eyes, feeling his tongue trailing across at her lips. She opened her mouth, allowing it entrance, and he took no hesitation in exploring her mouth. She could hear Vegeta's breaths growing more raspy with each passing second, nudging himself against her as he began to lower her towards the mattress...

Bulma broke free of the kiss and gasped, the Saiyan now laying on top of her. Vegeta was staring into her eyes, a habit he seemed to enjoy when he was in a good mood, and he was simultaneously caressing her breasts through her shirt. "You feel good." He breathed.

"Me?" Bulma replied, grabbing at his own shirt and trying to push it over his head. The Saiyan pulled back for a moment to rip the cloth off, a deed that she hadn't been successful with. She smiled as her eyes scanned over now naked torso his body. The muscles in his chest were so firm, and she was eager to feel his skin against her own for the second time. She reached out and teasingly ran a hand down the front of his pants, causing a low groan to form in the Saiyan's throat. Quickly he dropped down to reclaim his position on top of her, and Bulma nearly squeaked at his speed. She always forgot just how _fast_ he could move!

She could feel him - _it -_ pressing into her lower stomach, and she bucked her hips encouragingly. Vegeta grabbed the waistband of her shorts to slide her them down her legs. It was then that she noted how differently his hands felt this time. The fingers weren't pressing into the skin as hard as they had the other night. He gripped her with less firm dictation, his hands seeming to move with more caution this time.

… He was actually _trying_ to keep from hurting her...

When Vegeta slid into Bulma she had to sink her teeth into his shoulder again. He was holding back, and Vegeta hadn't slammed into her nearly as forceful and quick as the other night, but Bulma's body still needed to adjust to his size. She gasped, holding him close, whispering words of encouragement into his ear. Despite the fact that he was trying to be more careful with her, his pace was still steady and hard, and she didn't care. She liked the determination he went at her with. The urgency in his movements did nothing other than make her feel desired and needed, and she was just glad that it wasn't hurting so badly this time. She closed her eyes, reveling in the feel as he sank against her.

With each thrust she felt a spark of energy building, her head getting lighter as she lost herself to the ecstasy. Bulma couldn't think of a time where she had felt better than in that moment. Not a single thought was in her mind other than Vegeta, and what he was doing to her, and _how_ he was doing it. She couldn't think of any place she had been where she had felt more safe, more wanted, more complete. The Bluehead wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his forehead into hers, his hips moving with steady vigor. His strong arms were acting as shields around her body. His hot breath hitting her skin, she could tell that he wasn't going to last much longer by the way his gasps were becoming more shallow.

"You're so strong." Bulma was whispering against his ear. "You're _so_ _good.._."

Her words seemed to encourage him, as she hoped, his movements were growing more intense. The heightened friction was enough to send Bulma over the edge, her arms tightening their hold as she gasped. "Oh, _Vegeta..._ " She threw her head back. moaning through her teeth, convulsing against him as he continued his rhythm. She was trying to keep her voice down, hoping her parents couldn't hear. Vegeta was grunting something incoherent as she came, enjoying the feeling of her body writhing against his own. Bulma was cooing into his ear now, riding out the aftershock of her orgasm. So overwhelmed with joy, so blissful in her high. Without even considering her actions she pressed her lips against his ear, closing her eyes and nuzzling against his jaw. "I think I love you."

Bulma would never know if it was those three words that sent him over the edge, or if it was merely a coincidence. But sure enough, as soon as she whispered them she felt his hands grab at her hips and pull her closer, burying himself even deeper inside. His rhythm much more urgent. He let out a loud, satisfied groan as he released. Bulma almost cringed at it. _There was no way that her parents hadn't heard it._ But she was in too much pleasure to particularly care. She hugged him as she swayed with him, letting him ride out his orgasm as long as he could.

* * *

Bulma was laying on top of a sleeping saiyan, drawing invisible shapes on his chest with her fingers. She could see light glistening from the sweat of his skin, and she was calmly humming a soft tune as she smiled down at it. There wasn't anywhere for her to go, nowhere else she'd rather be. She listened to his soft breath as he dozed, drawing her eyes up to admire his face. She didn't think she had ever seen it look quite as peaceful.

The strain of forced vigor wasn't stretched on his face, allowing his chiseled features to soften as he let out a subtle snore. She knew she should get up and allow him his privacy, but she just couldn't bring herself to leave... At some point, as she continued to watch, Vegeta let out a deep sigh and rearranged his body. In his sleep his arms reached out and wrapped around her, pulling the Bluehead into his chest.

_The safety of those arms..._

It was enough to carry her into her own dreams, snuggling her face against his skin. There wasn't anywhere else that she thought she'd ever want to be, relishing in the scent of _pine trees..._

* * *

Vegeta attempted to shift his weight, warding off a strange dream, but he felt something on top of him. In the darkness he opened his eyes to see the outline of someone. Knowing perfectly well who it was, he brushed his hand across the figure and felt soft skin.

 _Bulma_.

Careful not to wake her, the Saiyan slid out from under her body and pulled himself from his bed. His internal clock was telling him it was 4 A.M. - time to start his day of training. As he began to get dressed he found himself replaying the night before in his head, and it was enough to make him pause.

 _'I love you...'_ He could still hear Bulma's voice cooing in his ear.

He could feel his heart lurch when he remembered those three words.

Love?

_Love?!_

What the hell did she mean - _**love**_?!

The fact was that Vegeta had come to Earth with only one mission in mind - to learn the secrets of becoming a super saiyan, and use it to destroy Kakarot's pride.

Would Bulma love Vegeta then? How could the Earth Woman love someone who had crushed so many lives and planets? How could the Earth Woman love him when he had originally gone to such a pathetic planet with the plan to find the Dragon Balls, wish for eternal life, and then defeat Frieza and rule the universe? Would the Earth Woman still love him when he left this wretched rock forever after he achieved his goals? Of course she wouldn't!

His muscles trembling, Vegeta felt his heart pounding as he resumed pulling his clothes on. Love hadn't been in the realm of possibilities that he'd considered when he had made the decision to stay here. When he decided to give in to his urgers - to sleep with Bulma, allow himself to get closer to her. Never had he intended for anything remotely close to _love_. The responsibility he felt with the idea of someone _loving him_ wasn't something he had ever wanted. It was overwhelming.

It was ridiculous!

How _could_ she say anything about _love?_


	10. Way Too Soon (Part Two)

* * *

"Vegeta, look!" Bulma smiled proudly, crossing her arms as she presented the robot to the him. He had been training in his ship, but she didn't mind interrupting him when it came to showing off completed projects. It had been an entire day since she'd seen him - he had kept to himself since the night they'd shared in his bed. Now that they stood face to face, he seemed more than irritated. She was used to this, though. After all, he was _always_ bitter when somebody interrupted his training.

Despite his foul mood, he couldn't hide the approval that lit across his face as he looked over the robot. "It's finished!" He croaked. Bulma handed Vegeta a small remote. "It's a work in progress, I've got a few more prototypes that I would like to try. But check it out! I installed an energy generator. Basically, you can fire an blast at this guy, and he'll absorb the power from it. He'll charge it up, and then he'll hit you with an attack that can be almost twice as strong!" She clicked a green button on the remote. "It takes a few seconds to charge, but I'm working on increasing its reaction time. The next one should only take about half of that! Go on, try it out!"

Bulma stepped back proudly, watching as Vegeta hit the robot with a small beam. The bot let out a soft beep, a meter lighting up on its side. Within a few seconds a bright orange power came bursting from its metal arm, colliding with Vegeta's side. It took him by surprise, enough to make the saiyan lose his balance. Vegeta stood, brushing himself off, and let out a husky laugh. "With this I can be stronger than Kakarot in no time!" He announced, balling his hands into fists with an eager grin on his face. It was cynical, the way he looked the robot over and laughed about " _Kakarot_ ", and yet Bulma smiled. She thought he was cute. Like a child on Christmas morning...

She excused herself from the ship, waving a hand as she went. "Just let me know if you notice any bugs that need to be sorted out, okay?"

Vegeta was already powering up and didn't respond as she walked outside. Smug with the idea of pleasing him, she held her head high as she went back to the house. She was going to start on the next robot right away!

Despite her excitement, there a worry that lingered in her stomach as she made her way upstairs. It was on her mind - the two physical encounters that they'd shared. She had expected Vegeta not to say anything to her about the night before. It was just like him to try and hide his emotions, of course. But in the back of her mind there was an uneasy feeling. She wondered how far things would between them. Would anything come from this shift in their chemistry?

Deciding it was best not to focus too much on that, the Bluehead shrugged the thoughts away. She had a new robot to start on!

* * *

A couple of weeks had passed, and Bulma was more worried than ever.

Vegeta still hadn't spoken to her about any of the moments they had shared. In fact, she had noticed that he was becoming even more reclusive. It seemed that he was spending _more_ time than ever locked away in the ship - which she wouldn't have thought possible a few weeks prior. She never saw him during meals anymore, he had never paid her a visit to report any bugs or glitches with the robot, and she was truly starting to suspect that he was avoiding her.

The Bluehead was sitting at her desk. She sat back to give her stomach a light rub. It had been bothering her off and on for a few days. She didn't think much when it had first started to cramp - she'd encountered some red in the bathroom, went about her day, and shrugged it off. But what typically would have lasted a week had ended only after a few hours, and she was growing increasingly confused. Her stomach pains hadn't subsided, and there was an uneasy feeling wavering if she thought too hard about it. She wasn't sure _what_ was going on - her whole body felt strange! Perhaps it was just stress?

 _'Oh well',_ She thought, listening as footsteps moved past her door and down the hall. She had listened as Vegeta took his nightly shower, and he was now returning to his bedroom. She'd been waiting all day for the chance to confront him, and now it seemed as if the perfect time had finally come. Fighting off the discomfort in her stomach, she stood from her desk and made her way to the door.

"Vegeta?" Bulma said shyly, letting herself into his room without knocking. She had given him a few seconds to get dressed before making her entrance, and Vegeta was standing shirtless with a pair of pajama pants on his legs. He stood with his back turned to her, digging through his dresser, his hair still wet. She noticed how his posture straightened when she said his name, and he lifted his head up from whatever it was he had been looking for. "What?" He replied flatly, not bothering to turn around.

Bulma ran a finger through her hair, trying to think of the words she wanted to use. After a few seconds she got fed up. He wasn't even going to look at her. This situation was awkward enough, and he wouldn't even give her the dignity of _eye contact?_ She shouldn't even have to be having this conversation! "Ugh, what's _with_ you?!" She snapped, placing her hands on her hips.

This certainly worked to get his attention. Vegeta glanced at her over his shoulder then, eying her bitterly. "I was trying to get dressed."

She let out a groan, running a hand across her forehead. He was being willfully difficult, so she was going to have to be more blunt with it. "Why have you been ignoring me, Vegeta?!" She could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks. She hated saying it out loud. With her verbal confirmation, it suddenly was true. He really _had_ been _ignoring her..._

The Saiyan turned his back to her again, throwing a shirt over his head. "I am here to train, and train only." He growled. Bulma could hear that he was irritated, but for the most part he was speaking in a calm tone. It angered her. He always had such a short fuse, and _now_ he was going to address her with such matter-of-fact regard?

Where was the _feeling_?

Did he not care about what they'd done at _all?_

She wasn't going to take his answer. She was going to press on. Standing firm, she continued. "You haven't looked me in the eyes since our encounter a few weeks-"

This did it. Whatever calm he was trying to grasp suddenly evaporated with a hostile groan. Vegeta quickly spun around, throwing his towel at Bulma's feet. "That was a momentary indiscretion, W _oman_!" He snapped. "What do you mean - I haven't looked you in the eyes?! I'm here to increase my strength, understand! Are you stupid enough to believe I have any other intentions?! When have I _ever said_ that! I am here to focus on training, and training alone!"

Bulma backed away as he snarled. The heat was continuing to rise in her cheeks - surely he could see it in her skin. "How can you say that?" She breathed, his words sinking in. Her instinct was to throw her hands up and yell. To cry. This stung more than anything she could have imagined - like a knife that had just sliced into her arm. But, as she thought of verbally retaliating, she realized that his behavior _really_ shouldn't have been that much of a surprise. Somewhere, deep inside, through the days of his avoiding her, Bulma had foreseen this. Even that first day, after she'd given him the new robot and went back upstairs to her room, she'd been worried.

She had just hoped it wasn't actually true.

She'd hoped he would have been more receptive to her affection.

Was it even _worth_ fighting over? There was nothing she'd be able to say that would change his mind... Everyone said he was a monster, and perhaps they were all right.

"Fine!" Bulma hissed, grabbing Vegeta's towel and slinging it back at him. He caught it with no marked concentration, heat seeming to flare from his nostrils as he rode off his rant. " _I'm_ just an indiscretion to you?!" She screamed. " _I'm_ _glad we got that sorted out!_ " With that she turned and stormed from the room as fast as she could, not wanting to be in his presence any longer.

Her heart was pounding, her stomach turning, breasts heaving.

_Overwhelmed with emotion._

She hadn't ever felt quite this way during a fight with Yamcha. It wasn't that she was just angry - she was _disappointed_. She was insulted. She felt stupid, and weak, and naïve, and that she'd been a fool to get her own hopes up over someone she'd known better about. She wanted to cry. She wanted to shake him. She wanted to eat. She wanted to kick him out of her house. She wanted to tell him to go to hell!

… She wanted to crawl under a rock...

... She wanted to... _throw up_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay! I know! Vegeta's being pretty huffy all of the sudden, isn't he?  
> I also included a tiny anatomy lesson for those who haven't had babies yet. Sorry if it's "TMI" (too much information, to readers who may not know that acronym), but it also couldn't be helped. Bulma's more confused about her body than anyone else can be! I needed to keep it real. ;)  
> This is the last chapter I'll be posting for now. Like I said, I'll be without access to my computer for a bit, so I wanted to leave you guys with a few more to read in the meantime. I hope you enjoyed these 3 new chapters (despite our Saiyan's grumpy mood). It's still a few days away, but I hope you all have a great weekend!


	11. Bulma's Anxiety

* * *

 

Bulma sat at the dining room table, her hands lightly placed over her stomach. It had been a week since she'd stormed out of Vegeta's room, and for a week his words had been replaying over in her ears. They had spoken briefly since then, but it had only been in regard to work. Their conversations were flat, with Vegeta avoiding eye contact and growling under his breath. It was obvious that he wanted as little to do with her as possible, and in return she'd been keeping her own distance. In his absence all she could think of was how harsh he'd been, and how disappointing it all was... _'If he's here to train, then I'll let him train. I won't speak to him again,_ ' She thought bitterly, her hands slowly tracing her lower abdomen. Normally when Bulma's stomach felt like this it meant that she would be expecting that _monthly burden_ within the next day. But it had been days that she'd been suffering with this sensation in her belly, and nothing had happened. Her attitude about it was just as jumpy - on some days she felt extreme anxiety, on others she was busy at her desk and hardly gave it mind at all. When she would think about her body she would grow confused - it seemed that the soreness in her breasts was warning her to get ready for a week of pain medicine and heat pads, and yet it lingered.

_What did it mean?_ Was she overthinking it all? A worry was lingering in the back of her mind, telling her that all of this could only add up to _one_ thing. But, then, that _couldn't_ be true! Not with _Vegeta -_ there was _no_ way she could be in such a situation after her episode with _him_. He was the _worst_ possible person for this to happen with... _There was no way that she could possibly_ be...

"Don't you want to eat, honey?"

The words snapped Bulma out of her spell. She looked up from the table and glanced around the room. Mr. and Mrs. Briefs were sitting across from her, delicately picking at their food, and Vegeta was to her side, ravenously flying through plates and bowls.

"Oh.." Bulma breathed. "Actually, I'm not hungry... I have a stomach-ache."

"Oh! Why don't you have some medicine?" Mrs. Briefs jumped from the table, starting to head for her bathroom.

"No!" Bulma snapped, standing abruptly. Her hands were visibly shaking. She didn't know what was going on with her body, but she _couldn't_ take any pain medicine! She just couldn't risk it...

Mrs. Briefs gave her daughter a worried look, but headed back to the table nevertheless. She took a seat, and without speaking another word the blonde housewife resumed working on her plate. Obviously disheartened from being yelled at, Mrs. Briefs pouted as she popped her fork into her mouth.

"It's okay! Really." The Bluehead continued, feeling a bit breathless. She couldn't stay in that room any longer. Not with these people, who didn't know what she was going through. Who wouldn't understand. She was started to feel claustrophobic, especially with _Vegeta_ at her side, who was been watching the entire situation with mild amusement. She just couldn't stay. She had to get away from this room - she had to get away from _him!_ And so she pushed her chair back and made for the door, feeling that the longer she spent in that dining room, the closer she edged towards a panic attack. "I'm fine..." Bulma repeated as she slipped away, though nobody had said anything.

_'I don't understand!'_ Bulma thought, taking a seat in the living room and struggling to hold back tears. ' _What's going on_ _? What is **THIS** supposed to mean?!' _ Didn't pregnant women always claim that nausea was one of their first signs? Bulma had only been nauseous on the night of her dispute with Vegeta, and even then she hadn't actually thrown up. At the time she'd attributed it to stress. But now she wasn't so sure. These cramps weren't subsiding. But she wasn't nauseous... yet her breasts hurt... _But they always hurt when she was hormonal..._

_...But the lump. The lump in her throat. The sinking voice in her head that was telling her to stop denying what was true... She couldn't ignore **that**..._

As most people tend to do with breakups, Bulma had her share of anxious phases in which he wondered if she'd done the right thing in leaving Yamcha. As she sat on her couch, considering how cold Vegeta had been to her over that last week - even in the dining room just now - she wondered again if she'd been a fool. Was she wrong to leave Yamcha? If she'd had this type of scare about her body with that immature Z-Fighter, _at least_ he would have been there to talk to... Sure, he would have been completely doofy and just downright stupid about it, but at least he would have been there... The more Bulma thought about it all, the more overwhelmed she became. She didn't like keeping it to herself. She was broken hearted and terrified, and she felt completely and hopelessly alone...

_That's it!_ Bulma stood. She ran for the closet by the front door and grabbed her coat. She had to get out of this house! She needed to go somewhere, even farther away from that hostile saiyan, and try to clear her mind! "I'm going out for a few hours!" Bulma called, though she didn't care if anyone replied. Mrs. Briefs could be heard scrubbing at dishes in the kitchen, Bulma's Dad and Vegeta still eating away. The Bluehead stepped outside and walked towards the driveway. It was windy out, and the air hitting her face with enough force to sober her mind. She had been cooped up in the house for so long, bathing in her worries. She needed to get out, even if she would be alone. Bulma retrieved a capsule from her pocket. She clicked the button and tossed it into the distance, watching as a small car appeared in front of her. She smiled, climbing into the driver's seat.

* * *

Vegeta stood tall, his fists tightening at his sides. The gravity machine had been set to 70. ' _Not bad for a couple of weeks'_ , He thought as he panted. The regular beatings that he took from Bulma's robots had helped his strength tremendously. He could feel it. Still, it wasn't enough. For one thing, he needed to work up to 300. He was nowhere close to that! And, on top of it all, he _still_ couldn't make the change to super saiyan, and it was pissing him off! Vegeta crouched and began a power up, wanting to see how far it would go now before his ki reached its limit.

He had noticed that the Earth Woman's demeanor towards him had changed after the night in his room. She no longer spoke to him with the enthusiasm he had come to expect from her. In fact, she hardly said anything to him at all, and when she did her voice came out sounding distant. It was as if her mind was somewhere else and she was speaking to Vegeta through an empty shell, not wanting to invest herself into the conversation by any means. Even the few times that Vegeta had demanded adjustments to the bot, she hadn't come racing into the ship to eagerly present her work to him like she used to. Instead, she was leaving the robots by the door of the ship, not even knocking before returning back to the house.

Mrs. Briefs had been worried when Bulma had stormed out. "Don't worry dear, she's perfectly fine" Mr. Briefs had explained while trying to coax her to relax. "Something's wrong with her. She isn't actin' like herself!" The Blonde Woman had insisted. "She never goes out this late by herself! _Oh,_ What is something bad happens?"

"Now now, she went off to find the Dragon Balls when she was a young girl! Remember? She can take care of herself!"

"But she had that lovely Goku boy with her!" Mrs. Briefs had cried. "Remember when she told us of the time he had to rescue her from being kidnapped? What if someone tries somethin' now, and she won't have anyone to help her?!"

Those words resonated with Vegeta more than he ever wanted to admit. They conjured up the image of a bruised Bluehead laying lifeless in a darkened street, some gruff man laughing over her body as he cracked his knuckles. The thought made the saiyan's blood race... But then again, she wouldn't be stupid enough to get into a situation like _that,_ would she? _She had much more sense than to let something like **that** happen! _

_Of course, if some bastard decided to take advantage of her frail figure, that would be of no fault of her own... She'd simply be an innocent bystander..._

Vegeta realized he'd been obsessing. His shook his head, snapping his thoughts back to reality. He'd been trying to power up, and he'd gotten so distracted that his ki had hardly shifted at all! "Damned Woman!" He growled. Even in her absence she compromised his training! The saiyed let out an exasperated yell, raising his hand and firing a beam at his battle bot. The robot beeped, charged up, and subsequently hit Vegeta back with an attack twice as hard. It wasn't very strong, but it irritated the already moody saiyan enough that he charged at it. Rather than blasting, he hit the robot with a kick so hard that it went flying back. Vegeta watched as it smashed into the wall, the sound of a loud crash echoing through the spaceship. Teeth gritting, he approached the dented up robot and glared at it. Bulma had designed this thing to deflect energy beams, but obviously she hadn't put much thought to physical attacks. She'd have to address this with the next model.

This was exactly why he couldn't allow himself to meddle with that Earth Woman, _anyway._ She'd done enough damage to his progress as it was. Encouraging him to sleep late, pressuring him to give himself breaks... He shouldn't care if she got herself killed by going out at an unsafe time. He shouldn't care if she chose to distance herself from him. He shouldn't _care_ if his words had upset her so bad! She had no business invading his mind, distracting him when he tried to channel his energy, haunting him as he made to focus his ki…

… If only he had the capability to solely concentrate on his goals, he probably would have _already_ achieved Super Saiyan...

* * *

"What are you doing here?!"

Bulma felt her heart sink, recognizing the voice. She had been sitting alone in a booth at her favorite restaurant, quietly sipping on some herbal tea. She had been lost in her worries yet again, staring into space as her thoughts trailed. She looked up slowly to see Yamcha sliding into the booth across from her. He had a wide grin plastered across his face, seemingly oblivious to her distress. It had been less than two weeks since they last saw each other, and already he was looking at her as if she was an old friend - and not an ex-lover. Bulma wasn't prepared to have to speak with him so soon, especially when she was _so_ upset. She wasn't in the mood for pleasantries with an ex. She needed time alone. But then again, this could be the distraction she had been looking for...

"How have you been?" She asked cautiously. She was well aware that if they got into a deep conversation there was risk of reigniting warm feelings. She'd have to be careful about keeping their topics at surface level. She didn't need things to become even more complicated between them...

Yamcha was happily nodding. "Hey, I've been _great_! You know, I was actually thinking about calling you. I've thought about us, and I think you were right!"

She felt her shoulders ease up, and she began to relax back into her seat. It seemed that at least _one_ of them had been doing well since their breakup, and that was truly good to know.

"I mean, we were young when we got together, right?" Yamcha continued. "Some people are just better off as friends!" An enthusiastic smile on his face. It had only taken him a little more than a week to reach this conclusion, and that was all the confirmation Bulma needed to know that they really had made the best decision.

His positive energy was such a stark change to the aura that had been lingering about the Briefs household lagtely, and it was such a relief that Bulma found herself fighting back tears. It just felt so _good_ to be around someone who wore absolutely no care on their sleeve. For the last week she'd been hiding away in her room, feeling as if she had a big secret to keep from her parents, and feeling her heart break every time she saw Vegeta. It was as if Bulma was exhibiting all of her anxiety on her face, because Yamcha's expression suddenly changed. "But hey, why were you sitting here all alone?" He said, his tone softening up. He leaned across the table, as if he were about to let her in on a huge secret. " _You looked kind of bummed out..."_

Bulma eyed her ex-boyfriend shyly. She was tired of bottling everything up inside. She wanted to tell him everything she'd been dealing with, to let it all out, but she _couldn't_. It was more than tempting to confess everything when someone seemed so genuinely concerned, but he was the _last_ person she could tell. He would _never_ understand things between her and Vegeta. Not only that, but she didn't think he'd _want_ to know. They were always going to be ex-lovers, no matter how either of them currently felt. The idea of telling Yamcha she had slept with the man he hated most was obviously never going to happen. So Bulma just shrugged and grabbed at her tea. "I guess I'm just tired," She lied, taking a sip to try and disguise her mood. It was only a half-lie, anyway... She really hadn't been sleeping well.

The two sat together for over an hour as they spoke, Bulma sipping at her drink and Yamcha eating some food he had ordered. Most of the conversation was about Yamcha and his recreational aspirations. He was advancing well in his baseball team, he'd recently signed up for a membership at a gym, and he was even preparing to run a 12k. It felt _so_ nice to just engage in conversation with somebody, to talk about somebody else's life and problems. Not only did it distract her from her own woes, but Yamcha's carefree attitude was rubbing off on her! She _really was_ starting to feel a lot better. He'd never know how truly grateful Bulma felt in that moment.

They were still talking and laughing as they walked to the parking lot, and Bulma stopped to bid him farewell. "I guess I should be going," She said, starting to feel a bit awkward. This was the first time she was saying goodbye as a friend since they had broken up. Yamcha looked at her and nodded. "Need a ride?"

Bulma didn't want to be alone again. She wasn't looking forward to the trip back, fearing that her worries would re-emerge as she drove alone. She couldn't accept Yamcha's offer, though. Taking a ride with him after dinner had been too routine in their relationship, and she didn't want to take _any_ risk. It was too dangerous. So she politely declined, pointing out her little capsule corp car. "Right!" Yamcha said, forcing a laugh. "I'll see you around!"

Bulma wanted to cry as she departed from the restaurant. It was 11 at night, and the drive back to her house would take at least half an hour. As she left the lights of the city center her, she felt the darkness of the night start to encase her. The sinking feeling of loneliness was returning, just as she'd worried...

.

It was late when Bulma slid her key into the front door. She was being as quiet as possible as she turned the knob and stepped into the dark house. Looking across the foyer, she could see that the hallway upstairs was partially lit. ' _Somebody must have left a light on_ ,' She thought. How strange...

...Vegeta had just returned upstairs from fetching a glass of water when he heard Bulma's keys in the lock down below. He stood in the hallway and waited for her, knowing she would head straight for her room. Sure enough, her footsteps went directly for the stairs. And when Bulma reached the second story she stopped in her tracks. Eyes planted on him, the saiyan calmly took a long swig from his glass. As if considering her options, she simply watched him from across the hall. He was looking back at her, wondering which of them would be the first to speak.

Bulma _did_ think of speaking. She had a lot to say. But once again his harsh words ran through her mind. As they always did when she found the two face-to-face. What good would it do for her to try and speak her mind? He would just blow her off, act like a jerk, and she'd end up feeling even worse. The Bluehead let out a sigh and shook her head. She looked down to break eye contact, watching her feet and feeling the emotion welling inside. She couldn't tell if she wanted to cry, or if she wanted to yell. Neither of those seemed like good options when her parents were snoring in the other room - she needed to just get away. And so she made for her room, ready to close herself off for the night...

It was when Bulma attempted to pass by him that she felt his hand shoot out and grab her wrist, preventing her from going any farther. She had been walking at a full pace when it happened, and the sudden snag made her body nearly fall from the jolt. She turned to the saiyan quickly and locked eyes with him again. For a moment she was fearful, not having expected him to do this. His grip was tight, and he had a mad flare in his eyes. Bulma waited for something to happen, and when she realized he wasn't going to do anything her fear turned to anger. She glared, not wanting to speak and wake her parents.

Bulma felt his fingers loosen around her wrist, and she snapped her hand back to her side. She turned away from him, pointing downstairs and gesturing for him to follow her.

And he did.

Down the stairs, to the right, and through a door leading outside. Bulma walked a firm pace through her yard leading them both straight towards the ship. Once inside she shut the door, sending Vegeta another scowl before heading across the room. Bulma threw herself into the captain's chair and swiveled around to face the saiyan, her arms crossed. She peered up at him as he continued to watch her so intensely...

"Well?!" Bulma snapped, feeling her emotions starting to take over. "What is it that you wanted?! Spit it out!"


	12. Hashing It Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter!
> 
> So, in case you were curious... this story is already written, dating back to 2015. I've been going through and proof-reading the chapters for errors and flow before posting them. I've been putting a lot of work into these - it takes me an hour or two just to edit each chapter! As long as I have the time I will continue to update as often as possible. 
> 
> Thanks!

* * *

Bulma sat in the captain's chair and glared up at Vegeta, waiting for him to explode. She could see it in his face. It was coming. His body had tensed at her words - the way she'd yelled at him with such venom.

He wasn't used to be spoken to in such a way - and especially not by _her_! It was his instinct to decapitate those who spoke out of line. It was in his history to laugh as he slaughtered those who opposed him. All he could think in that moment, as his fingers clenched and knuckles turned white, was what he would be doing if that had been anyone else... _If that had been anyone - **anyone** but her! _There was a ringing in his temple, his eyes feeling as if they would pop. Finally, through gritted teeth, he spoke. "I **demand** an explanation for your behavior, at _once!"_

" ** _My_** behavior?!" She snapped. An _explanation?_ He was actually asking for an explanation?! Once again, his hard words played over in Bulma's mind - ' _momentary indiscretion'..._ He had been so hurtful to her, and now he had the gall to actually ask her that? As if he hadn't done anything wrong? "I thought you were just here to do your _training_!" She threw her hands up, gesturing to the ship behind her. "What the fuck do you care about **_my_** behavior!?"

She expected him to get even more angry as she yelled. To the contrary, it almost appeared as if his expression softened. "Yes. I am here to train, and that is what I'm going to do," He replied. He spoke as if he were trying to reasonably explain a situation, despite the fact that his voice was raised a few octaves above normal. "But _you. Where were you?!_ You were out all night when you should be focusing your energy on perfecting my training gear!"

' _Is he kidding?'_ She thought, blinking as his response sank in. ' _Does he really not think?'_ His questioning was so ridiculous that the Bluehead nearly smirked about it, but she quickly forced that urge away. "I'm a human," She finally said. "And humans like to go out into the world every so often! Not that it's any of _your_ business!"

Vegeta raised a finger and pointed it at her, giving her a look of warning. "You need to learn your place with me, _Woman_." He growled. "I've already told you that you're to report to me before you go off duty."

_Off duty?_

" _ **Off duty**?!_ " She cried, jumping from the chair. Now it was Bulma that felt as if she would explode! "Who the _hell do you-"_

Vegeta cut her off before she could continue, "What kept you so late, anyway?!"

_Ah,_ so that was it! Now things were really starting to become clear. Vegeta, whether he wanted to admit it or not, had been concerned. No wonder he was acting like this. Bulma put her hands on her hips, appreciating the power she felt in having made him worry. She smirked, turning her head to the side. "Oh, right! I went out for a bit! I was _going_ to come back sooner, but then Yamcha-"

The word itself was enough to send the already angered saiyan over the edge. " **YAMCHA**!" He spat, interrupting the Bluehead once again. "That _idiot!_ You were out with _**YAMCHA?**_!" He could feel his ki charging as his heard raced. His body was visibly shaking now, overwhelmed with the rage coursing through his veins. He had no outlet. He had nothing to take his disdain out on. All he could do was stand there and yell, struggling with words he had just heard come from her lips. What made matters worse was the harsh realization that he was even reacting like this at all... He was quickly losing the ability to stop himself - to ask his head why he even _cared._

Bulma crossed her arms, feeling more than pleased. It had been unplanned, but she was glad that the jerk was upset. He deserved it after what he had put her through over the last week! "Right We've established that! I was with _Yam-cha_!" She said, raising her voice as if she was speaking to a child who had trouble hearing. "I ran into him while I was in town!"

Vegeta was fighting to find words. He mind was warping - how _could_ she go back to such a scum, after being with a Saiyan Prince? As angry as she'd been, the blatant jealousy on his face was enough to calm Bulma somewhat. She was secretly glad he was jealous. It told her a lot more about how he felt than he'd ever know. The Bluehead had initially enjoyed watching Vegeta's perplexed struggle, but after a few moments she dropped her harsh demeanor and let out a deep sigh. "Oh, _come on_! It's not as if we did anything bad! Relax!" She was nearly laughing now. It didn't excuse how he'd spoken to her before, but knowing that Vegeta was _this_ upset over Yamcha flattered her in a strange way. This whole thing was becoming such a joke. ' _He thinks that he's the powerful one?'_ She thought smugly. _'I just found his weakness!'_

Vegeta let out a guttural yell then, throwing his head back with his fists to his sides. It took Bulma by such surprise that she jumped back, eyes widening. Perhaps it hadn't been a good idea to push his jealousy, after all...

The saiyan had been able to let off some of his stress in doing this, and when he dropped his head down to look at Bulma again the muscles in his face didn't appear quite as tense. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose, gathering his thoughts and working to calm himself even more. When he opened them again he gave her a glare, speaking through his teeth. "I will not idly stand by and allow someone by the likes of _Yamcha_ to swoop in and have relations with a person of which I have mated."

_What the hell did that mean?_ Bulma's mouth dropped open. She had been teasing him, but she hadn't truly believed that he would really think such a thing. "Bleh! Vegeta!" Her face screwed, souring from the image that had conjured in her mind. "No! We just talked!"

He ignored her, taking another step closer."I'm the **Prince** of Saiyans!" He was ranting. "You should consider your body sacred after being with me!"

This jealousy thing was going _way_ too far. He really did believe that she was just going to swing back between men! "Vegeta, _listen to me_! I did _not do_ **that** with Yamcha tonight!"

"Where I come from we are loyal to the people we mate with!" He yelled.

That was a bad word choice. He had the audacity to try and use _loyalty_ against her? "Loyal? _Loyal!_ What do you know about being loyal?! To you I'm just a _momentary indiscretion_! What do _you_ care if I'm loyal?!" Even when she said it herself, repeating his words cut through her with such intensity that she was now in tears. Now he'd done it - he'd made her cry! In front of him! She hated this - she hated how indignant it felt to be showing him her tears. Especially when he was the one who'd caused them. "You used me! And now you're giving me shit? I will _not_ be treated like that! Especially not by **you**!"

Bulma was preparing herself for Vegeta's response when a spark caught her eye. She looked up to see light reflecting off a battered metal object. _What was it?_ Curious, she turned her head so she could analyze it from afar. Vegeta was now looking too, surprised by her sudden loss of interest. As soon as she made the connection she gasped, running to it from across the ship. "Oh, come on!" She kneeled down, examining the smashed robot that had been left on the floor. "What the hell happened?" She prodded it to its side, noting the large boot-shaped dent that had been left as evidence...

"Oh, that!" Vegeta threw his head back and laughed, remembering how good it had felt to watch it smash into the wall. "Let's just say that we had a little _accident_!"

Bulma stood then, scooping the robot into her arms. She held it close to her and cradled it like a baby. And in a way, it really _had_ been her baby. She'd been so pleased with it - so proud of her work. And already he had destroyed it. Now Bulma was heartbroken all over again. "Vegeta!" She howled, snapping her glare up at him. "You did this on purpose, didn't you!"

Vegeta just let out another laugh. "Why don't you go fix it up for _Yam-Cha_?" He called, watching the scientist storm past.

The Bluehead stopped in the doorway of the ship before she disappeared. She was so angry that she wanted to throw something. He was testing her, and it wasn't fair. But she wouldn't stoop to that level. So she hugged the robot even tighter, overcoming the urge to smash him over the head with it. She thought quick about what she could say to _really_ piss Vegeta off, to bother him as much as possible, to dig under her skin. Slowly a smile spread across her face, looking rather menacing when combined with the tears in her eyes. "You might be stronger than him, but Yamcha will always be _twice_ the man that you are."

The look on Vegeta's face indicated that her words had worked _just_ the way she had intended for them to. The drop of sweat shooting down the side of his head, the bulging vein in his forehead, the red cheeks...

Bulma was still grinning when she walked into her room and dropped the broken robot on her desk.

* * *

Bulma hardly saw Vegeta at all the next day. Perhaps it was because she spent the majority of it at her desk, mending the destroyed bot. Perhaps it was because when she wasn't at her desk she was in the bathroom, fighting back the nausea that had been harassing her ever since she'd woken up. Perhaps it was because Vegeta had locked himself into the ship long before sunrise, and she didn't even hear him come inside to eat.

It wasn't as if she really cared _what_ he did... Bulma didn't want to see him, anyway. The nerve he had, to treat her the way he did and then try to shame _her_ for going out. He wanted nothing to do with her, but thought she should sit around and linger after him? She knew he wasn't stupid - so why was he acting like it? Sure, she would help him in developing training gear. But if he thought he could tell her when she was allowed to leave the house, and who she could speak to, he had another thing coming! _'Jerk!'_ She thought, finishing up her robot and poking at the steel. She carefully picked it up and walked downstairs, hugging it close as if she were worried she'd drop it. Bulma stepped into the yard and noticed the sun setting in the horizon. It was official - he really had spent _all_ day locked away. It was clear who had won last night's argument, and it certainly hadn't been him...

Bulma wanted to storm into the spaceship - to yell "I'm back, asshole!" and make her presence known. But she remembered that he probably had the gravity cranked up, and that was enough steer her towards knocking instead. "Hey! You!" She yelled, banging her fist on the steel as hard as she could. A few seconds later it swung open, and a sweaty Vegeta was scowling at her. He stepped aside to let her in, and she made sure to brush against his arm as she went. "I fixed this guy for you." She snapped, setting the robot down. She then placed her hands on her hips, turning on her heels to scowl at him. "Try not to let any more _accidents_ happen this time!"

Vegeta nodded at the robot, noting how quickly she had fixed it. He thought it would have taken at least one more day. Slowly his focus moved from the bot to the Bluehead, and he locked eyes with her. There was something that had been bothering him. Something he felt the urge to ask. And she was glaring at him as if she could sense it. _And she could._ It was obvious that he was thinking of the night before as he looked at her. Why wouldn't he just go out and admit he was a jerk? Finally, she just couldn't take it anymore. " _Well?"_ She barked.

Vegeta glared at her tone. "I need something with speed."

Bulma nearly fell over. " _Speed_?" That was it? He didn't have anything to say about their fight - it was about another fucking robot?

He nodded. "Yes. I need something much faster. I'm growing stronger, and I need something to keep up and effectively dodge my attacks."

Bulma had been readying herself to yell at him for being insensitive, but when he said this her eyes flashed and she dropped her angry demeanor. "Oh!" she turned back to the robot and looked it over, as formulas began to fly through her head. She was suddenly feeling quite elated. "Hey, I bet that wouldn't be too hard! I could use the blueprints for this guy and just add a couple of little..."

Vegeta watched as she announced plans to herself. Most of what she was saying went right through him - it all sounded like complete gibberish. But it seemed as if she was happy to take this order from him, so he didn't care. He was glad to have her back to obeying his commands. In the exact place that suited her most. Yet, to his disgust, he just couldn't get over what she'd said to him the night before.

Finally, Bulma stood from the robot. "I'll let you keep this guy and I'll start on a new one. There's so many additions to it that it won't take any longer for me to start from scratch!" She was beaming now, happy to have another experiment to focus on. She began to walk past Vegeta again when he called to her.

"Woman."

The smile fading from her lips, Bulma turned to see what he wanted now. He had a look on his face, as if he were struggling to come to terms with what he was going to say. "What makes him better?" He finally forced.

Bulma's eyebrows disappeared under her blue bangs, and she dropped her head to the side. "Huh?" She tried to understand his question, _was he comparing the robots she had been discussing?_

Vegeta sighed impatiently. "I want to know what makes Yamcha a better man than me!" This wasn't an easy thing to ask, and he resented having to elaborate. "That weak pig!"

_Of course!_ How could Bulma have not realized what he was referring to? She had been so proud of herself for saying it the night before, but she'd been so distracted by her technological plans that it had taken her a minute to remember...

Allowing herself a moment to consider her response, the spaceship fell silent as Vegeta waited for her to reply. She had been making it up when she said it, just to take a jab at that saiyan jerk. When she really compared the two, Vegeta seemed to be better in nearly every way. Everything about him appealed to her more than Yamcha did, including his flaws. Vegeta had a stronger personality, quicker wit, firmer opinions... The way he looked at her when they had shared their nights together made Bulma feel desired and cared about in a way that was much more deep than Yamcha ever did... But then, perhaps she admired him so much, Vegeta had such capability to hurt her so bad. He was hostile, he was blunt, and he said terrible things without thinking them through. Finally Bulma realized what it had been that made her say it in the first place, and the way she felt from it told her that it was true. "He understands feelings."

She hadn't been aware of the tears in her eyes until she said this, and she could now feel them streaming down her cheeks. _Great - she was crying in front of him, **again.**_ "I used to think you knew more than him. I used to think you understood me better than he did, too. But now I see I was wrong - it's _you_ that doesn't understand compassion. Yamcha is a fool, but at the end of the day he knew when he crossed a line and would make up for it. You want to know why I've been acting different towards you?" Her voice had been rising as she spoke, and she was nearly yelling now as she cried."You can train here all you want, but how _dare_ you expect me to be okay with the things you said to me, _**after what we did**!_ " She took in a deep breath, readying herself for the next round of yells as the saiyan moved to interject. "No, Vegeta! Listen! I will _**not**_ be _**disrespected**_ like _**that**_!" She wiped at her eyes furiously, catching her breath. She was completely sobbing now, but she managed to choke off her cries and take a step back. Slowly, as she struggled, her sobs transitioned into sniffles.

Bulma was through with crying.

She was emotional, but she was going to move on. With each passing second she was feeling better, her shoulders bouncing as she caught her breath. It felt good to finally let out the thoughts she'd been swimming in for the past week. She was looking down at her hands when she felt two large arms wrap around her, and she snapped her gaze up. Vegeta's was watching her closely, and he brushed a tear from her eye with his rough thumb. He didn't say anything at all, staring into her eyes. The two stood there, watching at each other, for several moments. She wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed when Vegeta slowly leaned in to brush his lips across hers.

_How good it felt._ She was tempted to hug him closer and deepen the embrace. It never ceased to amaze her with how safe she felt in his arms. How easy it was for her woes to suddenly fade away. His arms made her feel as if _nothing_ could hurt her... And really, there wasn't anything that could. The only person that was capable of harming her when she was safe against Vegeta was _himself..._ And with that thought she knew that she she just couldn't allow herself to give in.

Bulma pulled away, turning her back to him and taking a deep breath. She hugged herself sadly, the sinking feeling in the stomach growing. She had seen the emotion in his eyes, and she knew that he cared more than he was wanting to let on. More than he seemed to know how to express. And somehow this managed to make her feel worse. It was what had set her up for disappointment in the first place.

Without another word the Bluehead left the spaceship, hoping to hear Vegeta call her back to him. She wanted him to run after her, to grab her and tell her he was sorry. That he hadn't meant what he had said. That their moments together meant as much to him as it did to her. He didn't, though - he had simply watched her go. She sighed. Perhaps his embrace had been the closest thing she could hope to receive.

Outside Bulma kicked at a dandelion that she saw blowing in the wind. _He was born and raised as a heartless fighter. And deep inside, she knew that wasn't **all** he was. There was much more to him. That was only his surface. But it was obvious that he wasn't willing to admit this to himself. How could she expect anything from him when he was in denial about it all? _ Bulma sniffled, taking a seat at the picnic table and allowing her head to fall into her hands.

_At least she had told him how she felt_...

Who knows how long she sat like that, her mind playing over Vegeta on loop. The more she thought, the more helpless she felt. She had fallen in love with a man who very obviously felt _something_ for her in return. And yet the timing was all wrong. He wasn't ready. And she knew that, after what she'd experienced with him, she could never see herself feeling that way about _anyone else_. She'd never want to share another passionate night with _anyone else._ It would only be him, and it was doomed to end in heartache.

_What a terrible mess to be in..._

Just when she felt that she'd burst into tears again, something made her freeze. She picked her head up, eyes wide. Bulma could have sworn she was hallucinating when she heard Yamcha's voice saying her name.

* * *


	13. I Warned You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! I'm on a roll! Please let me know what you think of this one! :)

* * *

Bulma looked up in horror to see Yamcha standing over her, grinning from ear to ear. "What are you doing here?!" She gasped. The Bluehead could _just_ about feel her stomach landing on her knees, understanding that Vegeta was only a few steps away inside his spaceship. All she could think about was his jealousy - jealousy that _she_ had intentionally encouraged - and if he saw Yamcha with her now there was no telling what he would do!

"I was going through my stuff at my apartment and found some of your things!" Yamcha grinned, gesturing to the house. "I thought you'd want me to bring it all by! I left the box on your bed!"

 _'Oh'_ , Bulma thought, her mind wandering to Yamcha's apartment. What could she have left there _?_ Obviously Bulma hadn't been missing anything important. It couldn't have been anything other than a few shirts, pictures, perhaps even a toothbrush. None of that seemed worth the impending fight that could go down at any minute! She could tell that Vegeta was finishing up his training when she had seen him, and he would be coming out of the ship at any possible second. As if violence wasn't the only worry... She was completely certain that Vegeta would tell _**him**_ about **_them!_** The Bluehead jumped from her seat and grabbed Yamcha's arm, tugging him into the house. Somehow, the idea of Yamcha finding out about her and Vegeta's _indescretions_ frightened her even more than the idea of the Z-Fighter having to be wished back with the Dragon Balls. "Vegeta's been in a very bad mood lately!" She hissed frantically, trying to direct him towards the front door. "You know how he is! You should go before he sees you here!"

Yamcha resisted her tugging, redirecting them towards the stairs. "That bully? Whatever!" He laughed, while Bulma struggled to pull him back towards the front door. "Stop pulling me, B! I need you to go through your stuff before I leave so I can get my box back."

Bulma let go of Yamcha's arm, starting to feel irritated. _Why wouldn't he listen to her?!_ "Forget the box! I'll give you money to buy a new one!" She spat. What kind of stupid argument was this, anyway? Why were men so _slow?_

"No way, Bulma," Yamcha shook his head, still working to lead her towards the stairs as she struggled for the opposite direction. "This is a _really_ nice box."

Bulma abruptly stopped in her tracks so she could give Yamcha a good look. She wondered, as she blinked, if perhaps he'd be better of dead after all? Would it be considered _natural selection_ if he was so willing to lose his life over a stupid box?

It was then that Bulma heard the back door shutting behind her. She froze, knowing that it could only mean one thing. She felt her head lower in between her shoulders, letting out a defeated groan. "I tried to warn you!" She whispered crossly. This day really couldn't get any worse! _How did she manage to get tangled up in such a mess?_

"Oh, look who it is!" Vegeta's voice was dripping with animousity, and she slowly turned to face him. She felt as if her eyes were going to fall out of her head, as she furiously tried to think of something to say. She quickly decided that honesty was her best solution. She hadn't even done anything wrong, after all! "Yamcha was just bringing some of my stuff by."

It was meant as a simple reference to their recent breakup, but it was a _b_ ad _word_ choice for Vegeta's suspicious mind. The Saiyan's eyes went cold, his eyebrows furrowing as he glared at the two. "What - you left some things at his place last night?"

It was at this that Yamcha stepped forward, "Hey!" He said, pushing Bulma behind him. "Don't talk to her like that!"

Bulma grabbed Yamcha's shirt anxiously, trying to tug him away from the impending altercation. "Just leave!" She hissed. "Don't worry about me! He won't do anything to me!"

Vegeta smirked, crossing his arms. "Don't tell me how to handle _my_ Woman, you bastard."

" _Your_ woman?!" Yamcha growed, dropping into a familiar karate pose. He raised his hands in front of him as he readied himself for a fight.

Bulma grabbed at his shirt again, her fingers shaking. "Uhh... guys..." Her voice shook, "Guys... we're in a _house,_ remember?"

Her words were no use. Both men ignored her, the smirk widening on Vegeta's face. He wasn't really acting as if he were going to strike Yamcha, but Bulma worried anyway. He was too calculated - too unpredictable!

"That's right - she is _**my** _ Woman." The saiyan scoffed. He let his eyes pan to Bulma. "Or, didn't she tell you last night?"

"Eugh!" Bulma scowled at Vegeta from over Yamcha's shoulder, her face screwing up in disgust at the implication. "Vegeta! I said we didn't _do_ anything! Yamcha and I _just talked!_ "

It didn't matter how much she denied - Vegeta's eyes flashed with amusement, and he shook his head. He had seen the look on Yamcha's face. This was all going so well...

"Wait a minute..." The Z-Fighter dropped his pose, turning to eye Bulma dumbly. "Does he mean that you guys...? You and _him_... you both...?"

The Bluehead let go of Yamcha's shirt, hanging her head and biting her lip. This wasn't how she would have wanted him to find out. Her body language said everything - it was all the confirmation that Yamcha needed, and his anger towards Vegeta suddenly transitioned to Bulma. "I knew it!" He barked, turning on her as he balled his hands into fists. "How long were you guys together before you decided to make it official and dump me!?"

Now Yamcha was accusing her of infidelity? Bulma backed away, placing a hand to her chest incredulously. " _Excuse me?!_ Just what kind of girl do you think I am?!" She thought that her reaction would have said it all, but obviously it didn't. Yamcha advanced on her still, his face turning a bright shade of red as his temper took over. "You were just _so_ eager to let him train here!" He yelled. "Just tell me! You were with him back then, _weren't you_! Right under my nose!"

The Bluehead was utterly shocked at the situation, unsure of what to do. Never before had Yamcha yelled at her with this much fury. Never before had she seen him approaching her with such a disdained look in his eyes. She couldn't find words - all she could do was step back, shaking her head slowly with wide eyes.

"Watch how you speak to her." She heard Vegeta warn, but she was too flustered to register his warning. "You might want to go ahead and leave before something... _unfortunate_ happens."

The saiyan's growl did little to steer the Z-Fighter away. "I'm not leaving until I get some answers! **Bulma! _ANSWER ME_**!" Yamcha took another step towards her, and she backed away again as she continued to shake her head. "I - I -" She trembled, unable to even form a sentence in her defense. What more could she say? He had already decided she was guilty. He wasn't going to listen to reason!

It took everything that Vegeta had in him, every ounce of will he had developed from his training, not to blast Yamcha off the face of the Earth for yelling at the Bluehead like that. Seeing him going at Bulma like that made every fiber of his being want to rip the bastard apart. Yet Vegeta knew that any chance he had at staying on his Woman's good side depended on him not destroying this bozo, so he resisted. The saiyan was half amused, anyway. It was clear by the way that Yamcha was squealing like a pig who had won _this_ match.

However, when Vegeta saw Yamcha grab Bulma's wrist and tug, he lost his patience. "I said to back off, but you just don't listen!" He growled, his ki flaring. In the blink of an eye Vegeta had lifted the Z-Fighter off the ground and was carrying him by the front of his shirt. Yamcha was too stunned to do anything at first, and Bulma ran behind the two. She was still in a state of shock, unable to say anything. All she could do was watch in horror as Vegeta walked – no - _carried_ her ex to the front door. "Vegeta! Don't hurt him!" She finally managed to gasp, standing in the entryway as the saiyan marched the Z-Fighter into the yard. By now Yamcha was thrashing about, trying to free himself from Vegeta's grip as he screamed. Vegeta was now where he wanted to be, so he lifted Yamcha higher into the air and swung his arm back.

Bulma covered her eyes.

" **Idiot**!" The saiyan snarled, releasing Yamcha and watching him slam into the grass below. "Don't you _**ever**_ touch **_my_** Bulma _**again**_! Understand?!"

Yamcha was both fuming and terrified at the same time. He crawled across the property and scrambled into his car, his hands shaking as he stuggled to fit his key into the ignition. "This isn't over!" He yelled out the window, the car coughing to life. Bulma couldn't help but feel deja-vu as she watched him back out of the driveway, yelling obscenities as he went. "I'll be back for my box!" was the last thing he cried before speeding down the street.

' _Well,'_ She thought. At least she didn't have to worry about him finding out anymore...

She looked over at Vegeta, who was now walking back into the house. He was muttering to himself, probably rude things about the man who had just run away. Bulma watched him, unable to keep the smile from spreading across her lips. Vegeta had stood up for her - again! And not only that, but he had said her name for the first time... And he'd said she was _his!_

...She was _his Bulma_...

Vegeta noticed her watching him - saw the dreamy smile on her face as she stared. She was looking at him as if he'd just fallen from the sky, and she seemed to be waiting for him to speak. Awkwardly, he licked his lips, feeling as if his face would soon be turning red. "Well don't just stand there, woman!"

Bulma jumped back from the door, giving Vegeta clearance to re-enter the house. He nodded at her as he walked by. "Come on." He growled. "Let's find something to eat."

* * *

A couple of weeks had passed, and things between Bulma and Vegeta were gradually getting better. After Vegeta embraced her in the ship _and_ stood up for her against Yamcha, she couldn't help but feel that he would start to show more affection if she was patient about it. He'd been hurtful and harsh, but she knew there was more to him than his temper. After all, he _had_ held himself back towards the Z-Fighter when she knew perfectly well that he could have easily killed him. He _really_ wasn't so bad, after all!

After the incident Vegeta no longer avoided Bulma with as much determination as he had been before. Things felt as if they were relatively returning back to normal - back _before_ he'd called her an indiscretion, and it was enough to give her a new bit of hope.

As the days had passed, Bulma noticed her appetite increasing, but she was fighting the urge and still eating the same amount of food. It wasn't abnormal for her to feel insatiable when she was hormonal. And, despite her new cravings, she had also simply been _so busy_ focusing on advancing Vegeta's training equipment, that she would sometimes forget to eat during the day completely. By dinner time she would find herself ravenous, but still the Bluehead fought to eat no more than the normal amount she usually was served.

During the last week she had also been busy trying to ignore feelings of fatigue, dizziness, and shortness of breath. But it had been especially bad on this day in particular. It was now after dark, and she'd been waiting all day to try and speak to Vegeta. Her chest was heaving, but she was determined to see the Saiyan. She'd been waiting all day for the perfect time, and she couldn't give that up just because her lungs felt heavy! The Bluehead had snuck into his room when he'd retreated into the bathroom for his nightly shower, and her hands shook on her lap as she waited for him to return. Was her trembling due to the anxiety that came with waiting for him, or if was it related to the issues with her body lately? Whatever it was, she'd be able to address it later. As of right now, all she could think of was the hope she had that Vegeta would be in a good enough mood when he came in and saw her.

She heard the bathroom door open down the hall and she grabbed at her legs, trying to steady her hands, as she listened to his footsteps drawing closer through the hall. After what seemed like an eternity, she looked up to see him walking across the room. A towel wrapped around his waist, he had shut the door behind him as he entered. He hadn't looked up at to greet Bulma at all as he headed towards his dresser. Bulma sat back, holding her breath. She had been expecting him to demand to know why she was there, but he seemed more focused on finding a set of clothes! A moment later her eyes widened in horror, as she watched him drop his towel to the floor.

_He didn't even know she was there!_

Her eyes felt like they were going to pop out of her head! She couldn't tell if she wanted to hide her face, or if she wanted to lean forward to get a better view _. ' _This is so wrong! '__ She thought. She felt like a pervert, gazing at his form without him even knowing!

Vegeta stepped back from the dresser, his naked rear swinging at Bulma like some type of hypnotic pendant. Holding her breath, she slapped her hands over her eyes, but found herself peeking through the slits between her fingers.

"Are you going to say anything?" His harsh voice finally grunted, and Bulma was so startled that she jumped back off the bed, crashing into the floor. "Y-You know I'm here?!" She gasped, her heart pounding against her chest as she pulled herself up and peeked at him from over the mattress.

Vegeta sighed impatiently. "Of course I know, _woman_! You were sitting on my bed!"

Bulma choked, turning her back to him and hiding her face in her hands. This was just too much! She couldn't bear to look at him anymore! "Don't you want some privacy? I didn't mean to invade it like this!" She was completely humiliated. This wasn't what she had imagined to happen at all when she had planned to talk to him.

"Privacy from _what?_ You've _already_ seen me naked?" Vegeta was stunned by her behavior. Did Earthlings only present their bodies to their mates during moments of passion? What difference did it make? It was still the same body! _Earth Women were so... confusing!_

He pulled a pair of boxers up over his legs and then turned to Bulma. "Well? Are you going to tell me what it is you need?"

Bulma took a deep breath. This situation had been bad for her blood pressure. The vertigo she had been suffering from was becoming overwhelming. Her lungs felt tighter. Her head lighter. "I just... wanted to talk, Vegeta..." She breathed, lifting herself up from the floor to crawling back on his bed. "About what?" Vegeta took a seat beside Bulma, pulling a thin shirt on over his head.

"About you. Us." She had been eying the muscle tone of his back, and she knew she probably would have been turned on if she hadn't felt so ill.

Vegeta sighed and didn't reply. He didn't shoot her down though, and coming from him that was enough encouragement to proceed. "I mean, you talk so much about your race and your planet, but you've never really _told_ me about it. What was your childhood like? How old were you when you left your palace?"

"A palace?" His eyes bulked. "Wait... What?!"

Bulma turned her head to look at him so he knew she was being serious. "You _are_ a saiyan prince, right? So... when did you become a warrior?"

 _What kind of questions were these?_ Vegeta felt as if he were about to roll off the mattress. "I... I've _always_ a warrior!" He snapped, feeling as if his masculinity had been compromised. "W...What!?"

"Hey, don't act like I'm stupid!" Bulma allowed herself to fall back on the mattress, folding her hands behind her head as she went. "If you ever told me anything about yourself in the first place, then I wouldn't have to ask!"

Perhaps she had a point. Vegeta rubbed a hand through his still wet hair, warding off the incredulity. "I was taken from my father as a boy. You know this, don't you? Frieza stole me in an act of betrayal and destroyed my species. I grew up under his command, waiting for any moment I could to have my revenge!" His voice was raising now, clearly unhappy to be reminded.

Bulma sighed, closing her eyes. Her head was starting to feel _very_ heavy.

"If only _I_ could have been the one to destroy that scum! To this day, knowing that I wasn't the one to kill him pisses me off!" He growled, flashbacks of his final battle with the tyrant playing through his mind. _A failure._ He'd been a failure at his life's only goal...

Bulma placed her hands over her stomach now. The combination of her hands tracing over her belly and the sound of Vegeta's voice was comforting, despite the heavy sensation tingling through her feet. "Well..." She gasped, taking in a gulp of air. "At least he's gone, right?" _Another deep breath_. "And it doesn't matter if you didn't beat him. I know you'll defeat the Androids without _any_ help... Everyone can just sit back and watch while you take care of it."

' _Smart girl knows true power when she sees it,'_ He thought smugly, turning to look at her. Her face was alarming, and he raised an eyebrow. She appeared to be half conscious, pallor broken out across her skin. Even her lips - they were pale, not a hint of pink in them. Where was their natural hue? "Are you... feeling correct?" He shifted his weight to get a better look.

"Funny..." Bulma smiled, her voice sounding kilometers away. "I don't feel very good. I hope you don't mind... but I'm..." And then she closed her eyes, turning her face as she dozed off. Her hand dropped from her stomach in a way that only encouraged the saiyan's unease. "Hey." He said, clearing his throat.

No reaction.

He groaned. This wasn't good. He turned then, scooping her into his arms. He told himself that he was doing this so he could move her to her own bed, but in reality he was wanting to check her vitals.

_Shit._

She was unhumanly cold as he carried her to her room. Her heart rate was normal, if not a bit strained. He pulled the blanket over her body, his mind racing. She was sinking into the mattress like a heavy weight, and there had been no pleasant snuggle into the covers, as he had hoped. She hadn't even elicited a delighted coo. "Hey." He whispered, almost desperately, lightly clapping her cheek."Wake up!"

She was completely unresponsive, by all definitions of the word.

_Shit._

He hated admitting it to himself, but he was worried. He had seen enough during battles to understand the difference between someone who had fallen asleep and someone who had _passed out_. Vegeta sighed - _she really was a handful -_ and headed for the door. It was time to alert the Blonde Woman, and that nutty professor that the Woman called " _dad"_.


	14. A Disease Called Pregnant

* * *

_Her head was throbbing._

Something cold was in her mouth. Without thinking, she bit her teeth down on it. The pain that began to radiate through her gums took several seconds to travel to her brain. It took even longer for her to let out a low groan, trying to will her tongue to push the object out of her mouth. She could hear a few voices whispering over her, but she didn't care to open her eyes. She was comfortable enough keeping them shut. The lids were too heavy to want to open!

"Bulma?"

She squeezed her eyes tighter and slowly turned her head to the side, hoping whoever was speaking would take the hint.

" _Baby_? Are you awake?"

She now recognized the voice as her mother's. Bulma moaned her response, still trying to push that _damned_ cold object from her mouth! She could slowly feel as strength came to her limbs, but it wasn't enough. Not yet.

"It's just as I said, Mrs. Briefs." Another familiar voice, but this one wasn't as easy to identify. "That iron tablet I gave her should be working."

Her tongue felt relief as the object was finally removed from her mouth, but it hadn't been her own doing. _Someone_ had pulled it out for her. "Let's see what the thermometer says... Yes, her temperature is looking better..."

"Thank you so much, Dr. Plocks! I was so worried!"

So, that voice had been the family doctor. By now Bulma was intrigued enough to force her eyes open. "Mom?" She breathed, pupils adjusting to the light in the room. Mrs. Briefs' face looked puffy, as if she had been crying. Mr. Briefs and Dr. Plocks were standing beside her, much more calm in demeanor than the frantic housewife.

"There you are, dear!" Bulma's father said, taking her hand. "I knew you'd be okay!"

The Bluehead struggled to sit up, and had to get assistance from her parents. "What happened?"

Mrs. Briefs opened her mouth to speak, but Dr. Plocks cut her off. "Well dear, it seems you have a case of iron deficiency anemia."

"Anemia?" Bulma gasped, straightening her posture. "How?" Sitting up so quick shot a jolt of pressure to her head, and she closed her eyes from the pain. She'd have to remember to move a little more carefully...

"Well, after your spell in your friend's room I was called by your frantic mother. I had to take a few blood samples to figure out why you fainted, of course. It turns out you aren't getting enough iron in your blood."

Bulma nodded slowly, piecing it all together. This could only mean one thing, and that everyone in the room already knew…

"Iron deficiency anemia be caused by a number of things, really. One of the first things we like to consider is diet. Your mom told me you haven't been eating very much lately."

Bulma kept her eyes closed. She knew where this was going, and she had no way of controlling it. All she could do was wait for it to be over – and then perhaps she'd get to go back to sleep.

"You should be taking better care of yourself, dear. It's very easy to become anemic with a case like yours. You may know by now that there is something else," Dr. Plocks hesitated, "Bulma, open your eyes, please."

She did as she was told, focusing her attention on the doctor to avoid her mother's gaze. Dr. Plocks was taking a deep breath as he readied himself to continue talking.

 _It really was true - everybody already knew_.

"Bulma, your blood test results also told us..." He cleared his throat. "Well, I'll just say it. You're pregnant."

Letting out a long sigh, the Bluehead turned to look down at her lap. She had known since the first day - the very moment she felt that cramp in her stomach. Yet somehow it hadn't seemed real. Deep inside, she always had been aware, but it was easy to ignore when she hadn't taken any test to confirm it. It was easy to deny when her body had given her mixed signals. And it had been _especially_ easy to deny lately, when she was focused so strongly on working... When Vegeta was stressing her out... With the commotion with Yamcha...

Now her doctor was telling her, and it was something she could no longer try to get away from. Not only that, but everyone had learned about it without her. She'd been asleep. She hadn't even gotten to share the moment with her family... She couldn't tell if that made matters better or worse, to know that she hadn't been around to witness everyone else's intial reactions. Bulma nodded, looking back up to the doctor. She still couldn't bear to see her parents. She could feel their eyes on her, and she put all of her energy towards trying to ignore them. "I'm about a month along, right?"

Dr. Plocks nodded. "I'd say so, more or less. Judging by the amount of hormone that came back in your blood sample. But you'll need an ultrasound to be sure. Now, anemia at this level doesn't typically occur so early on in pregnancy. I'm kind of stunned. I guess that baby is hungry! It's been taking a lot of nutrients from you. You need to be sure to actually _eat_ \- and take iron supplements every day."

Bulma nodded again, this time feeling pretty stupid. She hadn't been treating her body well, even though she had known better. This entire situation had come from her own doing! "I've been stressed…" She muttered, as if this excused everything.

"Aren't we all, dear?" Dr. Plocks laughed. "Now, you need to just get some rest and eat several big meals. Try not to over-work yourself." He nodded at Bulma's parents, who seemed to run from the room on cue. Now that Bulma thought of it, she really _was_ starving. Plus, she could smell food. They must have cooked while she was asleep, and they were probably running downstairs to prepare a tray now! Things were starting to get exciting!

Bulma nodded, feeling emotional and embarrassed as she listened to her parents clattering about downstairs. What had her parents' reactions been when they had first learned? Suddenly Bulma regretted not getting to see it – to experience it with them. To see the look on her mother's face, the shock in her father's eyes...

Then, as she thought, her heart gave a jolt to slam against her ribs.

_Did Vegeta know?_

Bulma watched as the doctor packed his things up and excused himself from the room. She turned to look out the window. She could tell by the sun's rising that it was probably 6:30 in the morning. If Vegeta had slept through everything, he'd be awake at any minute to start his training. She listened as her parents walked back upstairs. Her Dad was speaking to the doctor in the hallway, and her Mom entered the room looking ecstatic. She was carrying a tray filled with dishes, which she placed on her daughter's lap.

"Mom, I-" Bulma started, but Mrs. Briefs quickly shushed her. "We'll talk later, sweetie! Just eat something up!" She was beaming so wide that her eyes were hardly open at all, and she watched Bulma take a sip of water. "Your father and I are just so happy!" She sang, kissing her on the forehead. "Just get some rest and we can talk about it later. Oh! I just _hope_ it's another beautiful little girl! Maybe _this_ one will get my hair!"

Her stomach looming with everything going on deterred the Bluehead from being as excited as Mrs. Briefs, but Bulma was just glad that she seemed to have her mother's support. "What happened last night?" She asked, sipping some of her soup. She was trying to act casual, although she was aching to understand how everything unfolded.

In her dramatic fashion, Mrs. Briefs placed a hand to her forehead. "Oh, well last night Vegeta woke your father and I up. He was at the door and tellin' us that we needed to come out!" She giggled to herself, "He's such a cutie! Anyway, he sounded pretty serious! He brought us into your room and told us that you needed medical attention!" She clapped her hands together now. "What a sweet boy! If it hadn't been for him, who knows _what_ would have happened!"

Trying to keep a calm composure, Bulma set her soup bowl aside and began to work at a bowl of rice porridge. "Where is he now?"

"Oh, he's getting some rest! He asked about you a few times while the doctor was running the tests, but after we learned what was wrong he went to bed in a hurry! Poor dear was up all night, he musta been so relieved! I'll be he was just exhausted!"

That confirmed it.

 _He really did know_.

Bulma really was surprised by how calm she felt at that news. There was no drop of anxiety, or pang of excitement. It was just a fact that she had simply _learned._ Perhaps it was the food she was eating? Or, maybe, it was because she really couldn't have been _too_ surprised…

… It wasn't too long after that Mrs. Brief's disappeared downstairs, singing "remember to rest, honey!" as she went. Bulma sat alone in silence, watching the sun rise ever higher in the sky. She sank into the bed, trying to decide if she should just stay up, or if she should try to get a few more hours of sleep. After a few seconds she began to hear some rustling in the other room, and knew that Vegeta must be awake.

* * *

 _He_ didn't sleep at all that night. Obviously, things had been much too hectic to get any rest; first the _woman_ , then her parents, and then that doctor! For hours Vegeta had watched the Woman's frantic parents barking orders at one another and arguing over what to do. Then, once the doctor arrived, Vegeta had to listen to him waste time trying to calm the others down. It was good of the Doctor to send Bulma's mother downstairs to cook, because Vegeta was starting to get hungry after listening to it all. That, and he was getting so fed up in listening to them that he was about to blow them all apart.

 _'What a waste of time! Imagine if they spent this long crying on Frieza's ship! Nobody EVER would have made it through their injuries!_ ' Vegeta had thought, looking back on having to be healed in the regeneration tank after his first battle with Kakarot. If the men on the ship had gotten so rattled by his arrival, the Saiyan would have surely died right in front of them all.

After the tests were run and the results were concluded, what really stunned Vegeta was the diagnosis the Doctor gave. "What is this disease called _pregnant_ , and why is it so alarming!" He had demanded. These Earth terms were so petty - they seemed to tread around a subject instead of just getting to the point!

"Don't be silly!" Mrs. Briefs had exclaimed, swatting playfully at Vegeta before wiping a tear from her eye. "I can't believe it! _My_ baby is going to have her _own_ baby!"

"She's at the perfect age to have a child too," Mr. Briefs had commented, "Just think, a new little scientist to make things interesting around here!"

Vegeta listened to what the Earthlings were saying, and as the words sank in her nearly bit his tongue.

' _So…'_ He thought, eyes bulging. ' ** _Pregnant_** _means that she... she's... she is **procreating**! _

.

Vegeta grunted and rolled over in his bed, soured as the memory played over yet again. That earth woman had been nothing but a source of distractions since he'd arrived. She had distracted him from his physical training, from his mental concentration, from getting enough sleep... Her and _Yamcha_ had done enough damage with their disruptive fights. Now she was having his child, too? The saiyan thought bitterly of what that coward must have looked like as an infant. The idea of another little Yamcha running through the house while Vegeta was trying to focus on strengthening his body made him feel sick. The idea of _Yamcha's DNA_ … inside of _her..._ It made Vegeta feel much worse than disgusted.

In fact, it was _repulsive!_ It was an insult! It was… _unworthy?_

_Yamcha was not worthy of fathering a sire with **her.**_

Growling, Vegeta threw the blanket off. He angrily jumped out of his bed and eyed the window. The sun was already rising. Now, on top of everything else, _she_ had prevented him from getting a blink of sleep. All he could think of was throwing on his training gear and racing for the ship. He was going to have to blow off some steam – quick – before he ended up destroying the entire house.

* * *

Bulma listened as Vegeta left his room. She had been hoping he would come in to see her, but instead he headed for the stairs. ' _Maybe he thinks I'm sleeping,'_ She thought wistfully.

Yet, as the sun rose higher into the sky and Bulma still hadn't heard from the saiyan, she started to suspect that he was avoiding her. Such a thought only worked to piss her off. Yet again he was acting distant from her instead of just telling her how he felt. ' _I'm not going to let this linger_ ,' She thought, but she'd have to save that confrontation for later.

The full meal Bulma had eaten for breakfast seemed to remind her body of how much she had neglected it. In fact, she found herself feeling completely _insatiable._ She never thought she'd consider eating as much as Vegeta or Goku ever did, but she was now envious of them. _Their_ anatomy actually permitted such a thing! If only she had a huge stomach, too! It didn't matter how much Bulma ate – she would become much too full before having enough to be satisfied. The pattern that day had been for the Bluehead to eat as much as she humanly could, wait an hour for the meal to digest, and then start all over again.

And, in between the meals, Bulma had been trying to get some rest. She felt much better after each time she ate, but she still was lethargic enough to not care about doing anything. After an entire day of this cycle Bulma was finally feeling much more like her usual self. Her energy was coming back, the sun was setting, and she was feeling ready to approach Vegeta. ' _Here we go again'_ She thought, making her way to the ship. Still locked away inside of it, she hadn't seen him since passing out in his bed.

Bulma knocked.

_There was no answer._

"Vegeta!" She yelled, slapping her palm against the steel. "If you don't open up I'm just going to come in!"

_No answer._

"The gravity better be turned off, because if I get hurt it'll be your fault!"

_Still no answer._

She let out an offended growl and clicked the door open. Immediately she saw Vegeta, who was looking in her direction with his arms crossed. As if he had been waiting.

"What's your problem?!" She said, stepping inside. Just as she had predicted, the gravity machine had been turned off for her and she was safe.

" _My_ problem? You're the one interrupting me!" He glared.

This was how he was going to behave when seeing her the first time since learning the news? "Enough with that, _buddy_!" She snapped, closing the ship door behind her. "This isn't the first time you've ignored me because there was something bothering you! So just spit it out, already!"

Here she was again – talking to _him_ like _that. **Again**. _ Vegeta could feel the rage building within. He turned to the side, looking away. "I've got _nothing_ to say to _you_ , _Woman._ "

This was too much. Was it the hormones, the stress that had been building up for weeks, or was it the disappointment of his actions? Bulma felt a scream coming, and she didn't bother suppressing.

" _Jeez_!" Vegeta gasped, covering his ears as Bulma let out one of the most high-pitched exhausts of frustration that he'd ever heard. His knees bucked a little, the tone making her eardrums feel as if they were about to explode. "Stop it, Woman! _Stop!"_

"You know perfectly well that I'm having a baby!" She yelled, heaving as she caught her breath. "And you don't have _anything_ to say!?"

To hear this coming from own mouth made him gulp. It was true – it was _real_ \- and he didn't know of any other way to handle it except with anger. She had the nerve to present this information to him in such a condescending way? As if he should care? "Bah!" He spat, taking a step back. "Why don't you ask _Yamcha_ what he thinks?"

It didn't take an elaboration for her to understand. As soon as he said it Bulma's stomach dropped. She just couldn't believe that he'd think such a thing, but as she watched his face she knew it was true. "Vegeta, I didn't conceive this baby with Yamcha," Taken aback, she was no longer yelling. "There's no way this could be Yamcha's baby. It isn't physically possible."

It was at this point that Vegeta interrupted her. "Do you think I believe that, _Woman_? Who else would it have been?" He let out a growl and began to walk towards the gravity machine. "Don't try and pin this on _me._ I didn't conceive _anything._ You think I have enough time to be someone's father?" His voice edging.

Bulma felt a drop of sweat breaking from her forehead. She didn't know how to sense ki, but she could still feel his rising.

"I'm a **_saiyan prince_** , and I came to Earth with **_one_** mission! A mission that **_you_** keep distracting me from!"

Backing away towards the door, she was heartbroken yet empathetic. How must it feel to be in a situation like this when you came from a foreign _planet?_ "You're in denial, Vegeta!" She said, nearly pleading. "You know deep inside that this is your baby! The sooner you come to terms with it the better off you'll be!" Despite her words, she knew there was no use arguing with him. He was so stubborn, so stuck in his ways. He'd have to reach the conclusion on his own. He needed time to process everything. Bulma couldn't decide if she wanted to eat something or if she wanted to throw up from it all.

" **You continue to distract me**!" Vegeta was barking. " **Can't you leave me alone – _for once_**?! **The more attention I present you with, the more you expect from me**!"

"Fine, then! I'll stop _distracting_ you!" Bulma choked. "This _is_ your baby, _Vegeta_!" She walked through the ship's doorway, turning to glance at him from over her shoulder. "You're going to have to accept that!"

She watched the saiyan, his back turned to her, noting the tense posture he stood with. His hands pulled into tight fists, his muscles bulging with strain. And as soon as the door shut she heard something that sounded like a loud smash.

 _Well,_ **_somebody_** _had just punched a wall…_

Once back inside the house, the Bluehead went straight for the refrigerator. Grumbling to herself, Bulma grabbed a snack to take up to her room. She was going to eat her way to sanity – she would _eat,_ and she would _relax_.

 _'How is it that can he be so strong, yet so damned weak!'_ She thought bitterly, angrily popping a sweet roll into her mouth. _'He's a bastard!'_ Her mind continued as she stubbornly wiped away a tear that threatened her eye.

He really was a bastard – a _huge_ bastard... And she couldn't believe that she _loved_ him.


	15. Vegeta's Speculation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the first chapters I can remember typing and being really pleased with. Of course, it's been fixed up since then. ;) I hope you enjoy this one!

* * *

Inside the ship stood Vegeta, panting fiercely. The gravity was now set to 400, and he loudly struggled through a push up. For the last two weeks he had all but barricaded himself inside the ship, forcing _her_ and Yamcha from his mind. The saiyan couldn't even stomach the idea of seeing her face, knowing what type of blood she was now carrying within. The prince of the ancient warrior race had been _so_ selective over who he chose to mate with – how the _hell_ could he have chosen someone who would be procreating with _Yamcha?_ He just couldn't handle the odd emotions that ran through his body when he heard _her_ voice, remembered what _she_ had done. All Vegeta could seem to do when he encountered the Woman was think of how desirous and possessive she made him feel, and he hated it. By all definitions of mating, she was _his_ , and Vegeta saw no reason for her to be involved with anyone else. It was wrong – it was putrid, and it pissed him off! And that of itself made him feel even worse. He was supposed to be focused on his training. How had he gotten himself warped into this stupid game!

Suddenly Vegeta stopped his exercising and sat up, catching his breath. He had heard a voice calling to him from outside the ship.

"Vegeta, don't ya wanna come eat?"

It was Mrs. Briefs, who was now knocking at the door. The saiyan sighed and pulled himself from the floor. After a long day of working out, food really did sound good. He stepped out of the ship and walked into the house, not speaking a word to the blonde woman as they went. The contrast of lighting made Vegeta feel blind when he stepped inside, and as his eyes adjusted he saw both Dr. Briefs and _Her_ sitting at the table. He quickly put his eyes to the floor, not wanting to even see her.

_He couldn't look - not when she was gestating with **Yamcha's** child…_

"Oh Bulma, you already finished?"

"I'm not finished! I'm just getting more!"

_More food?_ Since when did the Woman indulge in _more food?_ This was odd enough that it inspired Vegeta to look up to see Bulma lifting herself from the table. There were four empty dishes left from where she had been sitting.

_Since when did she ever eat that much in one sitting?_

Bulma was at the stove now, filling her new plate with noodles and humming a tune. She seemed completely blissful – _so_ happy to be preparing herself for another serving. As if the only purpose in life was now to eat. Feeling strange, Vegeta took his own seat. Mrs. Briefs had already placed several plates down in anticipation of his appetite.

"You haven't eaten with us for a few weeks, have ya Vegeta?" Mrs. Briefs commented, Bulma sitting back down across from him. The Bluehead was completely in her own _world,_ not once even attempting to sneak a glance at Vegeta. It was as if she didn't even _care_ to see him! All she was focused on was her food, and immediately the Bluehead began to inhale her noodles. Vegeta raised an eyebrow, his stomach tightening as he watched...

"Bulma's just been eating like crazy!" Mrs. Briefs continued. The Bluehead took a swig from her drink, not bothering to argue with that statement. Gulping loudly, satisfied, Bulma shrugged. "I hope you've got something good for dessert!" She announced before returning to her noodles.

Vegeta seemed to forget about his hunger as he watched her...

' _All the food she's eating...'_ He thought, furrowing his eyebrows. ' _It's as if she's becoming some strange type of adolescent saiyan?'_

The word hit him hard, and his eyes widened. Suddenly he found that he really had no appetite at all.

**_Saiyan._ **

* * *

Only eating one plate, Vegeta immediately retreated back to his ship after the meal. Trying to force the image of Bulma feasting from his mind, he needed to put all energy towards his physical advancements. The saiyan was tired of feeling stuck with his progress. It didn't matter how much he did – it was never enough to achieve Super. He needed to take his training to the next level! He had decided that he needed to strengthen his way of _living._ Not only was going to train in 450 gravity, but he was also going to _sleep_ in 450 gravity.

He watched the level rise as he held his finger down on the gravity machine. Stopping at 450, Vegeta stepped back. "Alright!" He grinned, feeling his weight surge. It took a moment to adjust to his surroundings, taking a deep breath and bracing himself as the pressure hit him hard. Just moving his arms was a challenge, fighting to reach over his head and pull off his shirt. He was beating this machine, but it wasn't an easy task.

_'I won't be satisfied until working in these conditions is completely natural to me!'_ He thought, pulling his lounge pants on. Moving in this type of gravity should take no thought at all. He needed to be able to work with it as if it was his only way of life. He looked across the ship, readying himself for his next task. The captain's bed beckoned to him as he slowly made his way towards it, moving at a steady pace. He hadn't even used that thing since he had arrived on Earth. He'd indulged way too much in the furniture that the Briefs family supplied him with upstairs. It was all a bunch of unnecessary luxuries that he'd be better off living without.

" _I... will... be better... than you... **Kakarot**!" _ Vegeta growled, moving one leg at a time. His body was exhausted from his earlier training, and the gravity was fighting him with every step he made. Finally, after what felt like hours, Vegeta made it to the bed and he threw himself on it. He could feel the mattress gasp as his body sank, threatening to give in under his weight.

"Just you wait." Vegeta whispered, his eyelids closing. "I'll show you, Kakarot…"

…

It was night time, and Vegeta found himself standing under the stars. Cool air was hitting him in the face, and he was out of breath. He wasn't sure where he was, but he was incredibly pissed. He couldn't remember what had taken place up until this point, but he knew that somebody had managed to take _something_ from him. Trying to remember, he looked up and noticed a dim light in the distance.

He felt drawn to it. Whatever he had been fighting with would be found in that direction. He wasn't sure how, but he _knew it._ As he watched the light, he began to hear a familiar voice come to him through the darkness.

" _Get your hands off me, you creep!_ "

Bulma. It was coming back now! She was the one who had been taken from him! And she was there, by the light.

That was it. He needed to get her! Vegeta jumped from the ground and began to fly towards the light, his head starting to pound with determination. The light was growing larger as he advanced on it, and as Vegeta grew closer to the object he realized that it was radiating from a large structure.

_A building_?

No, it was a round ship. He was close enough now that he could see what was happening ahead of him. " _Hey_!" He snarled, catching sight of Bulma. She was being carried by two men as she kicked her legs and fought against them. They were all too distracted in their altercation to pay notice to the Saiyan as he yelled. "Put me down!" Bulma was shrieking, her voice curling with terror. She attempted to slap at one of the men, but it was in vain. All of her punches seemed to have no effect on them at all, and after a moment of struggling, one of them put a hand to her throat. "Enough." The man warned.

Why couldn't Vegeta find it within himself to blast an attack? It was as if he had lost all capability to do anything other than fly, completely unequipped to help at all. He was still too far away to throw a punch. Despite how fast he flew, it wasn't enough…

_'If only she were stronger_!' Vegeta thought, his stomach tightening. ' _She has the will of a fighter, but no power! at all'_

Bulma needed him - she _needed_ him, and he was failing her. Distance and physical limitations were keeping him from protecting her. He was helpless. "Stop it!" Vegeta barked, trying to increase his speed. He was slowly gaining on them, but in the end it wasn't enough. As the saiyan watched, the three finally made it to the ship and disappeared inside. The heavy door slammed shut behind them with a loud bang.

"Damn it!" Vegeta yelled. Something inside told him it would be no use, but he had to try anyway. He was standing in front of the ship now, and he raised a palm to fire a blast.

_Why was it that he could now summon the strength to form blasts, when he hadn't been able to before?_

A purple light shot from his hand, but it faded into the air before it was able to reach the door.

_Where had his power gone? Why was it letting him down **now**?_

He could hear Bulma's cries through the walls, could feel the desperation of her ki. Vegeta desperately eyed the ship, searching for a way in. He looked up and suddenly saw _it._ A round window, four meters into the air.

_With his ki failing him, this would be his only way._

Vegeta put no thought into his next move at all. Flying up, he threw himself at the window, closing his eyes as the glass shattered around him. Landing inside a corridor of the ship, he had no time to be pleased with his success. He looked around, realizing that the hallway he was standing in was more than familiar.

… This was a corridor he had walked through many time before…

' _No,'_ He thought, eyes widening as Bulma's screams filled his ears. I _t... it couldn't be!_

She had been screaming in anger, and suddenly the Bluehead's voice turned into a long cry of pain. "Stop!" She wailed, her cries echoing down the hall.

' _No!'_ Vegeta thought, instantly taking off after her voice. How could this have happened? How _did_ it come to this?

As he followed the sounds, Vegeta heard as a new voice came to ear. " _What do we have here?_ " Icy. Cold. Masochistic. Just the sound alone triggered a familiar hate that had been dormant inside of Vegeta for quite some time. A disdain he'd almost gotten used to living without... Why – how? _He_ was supposed to be dead. Vegeta had watched him die! And yet he was still tormenting him! He was tormenting _her –_ just to punish _him!_

Why was this hall so endless? Why did it seem that, no matter how fast Vegeta ran, he couldn't get to the room that _his woman_ was being tortured in? He listened helplessly as Bulma let out a breathless sob, and Vegeta could painfully see her helpless face in his mind.

"I know, I _know…_ It hurts, doesn't it?" That snakey voice was hissing, a laugh curling in its tone. "This is what happens when a monkey crosses me. _You_ get to pay the _price…_ "

" **No! Please**!" Bulma was crying at a pitch Vegeta had never heard before. The desperation and howl of her voice, choking with its own force as she ran out of air.

He was breathless, his power unbelievable low, but Vegeta could finally see light at the end of the hall. He was finally arriving to the room, and he knew that he would be there in just a few seconds. If only she could hang on until then… _She just needed to hang on... for a few... more... seconds!_

"Let me see what you have in there," The icy voice had returned, his voice no longer curled with amusement. Vegeta knew from past experience that when he spoke like this it meant he was done playing. He was about to start in on the _kill._ " ** _It's very sneaky of my monkey to repopulate his filthy race!_** "

It was then that Bulma erupted with an ear shattering scream. Shouting things that were incoherent, the pain in her voice was so intense that Vegeta nearly fell to his knees. Her ki was dimming quickly, her cries growing weaker as she exhaled the last of her air. The saiyan was only a few steps away from the room, now, but it wasn't enough…

His body felt cold when her voice abruptly stopped.

_No!_

The silence that filled the ship was only brief. And as Vegeta turned to step into the room, a new sound began to take place of Bulma's faded screams. This new noise was like a loud alarm, circularly repeating itself at a steady pace. Vegeta had heard this before, but only on rare occasions. The last time he could remember encountering this was when he had still been a boy living on his home planet. This sound rang through his ears and seemed to emphasize the absence of Bulma's life aura, welling his gut with grief as it ran through his eardrums.

_It was the sound of a baby's cry._

The baby's wails, melancholy and pained, echoed through the hallways as he closed in on the room. He now realized that he could sense a ki in place of Bulma's death. It was dim and weak, but stronger than he would expect for an infant. Vegeta peered into the room, feeling the blood starting to boil under his skin. Inside lay the woman - _his woman._ Her body was still, no sign of life left in her. Red blood pooled across the cold floor that his woman had collapsed on. Her hair covered her face, her arms pale and outstretched. Vegeta could see the deep wound in her stomach. A large, gaping hole. As if a hand had cut her open and ripped the child right from the womb.

_They had stolen the child she had been trying so hard to protect._

The form that Vegeta saw standing over his woman made his breath stop in his throat. The figure that he had grown to hate with such intensity was standing before him once again, and it seemed to be laughing at _his woman's_ dead body.

_Mocking it._

"Frieza!" Vegeta spat, his hands tightening into fists.

Frieza turned calmly, and as he turned Vegeta could see that he was holding an infant by its hair. The infant continued to cry, its voice healthy and loud. Its tiny fists clung to the sides of its face, its eyes squeezed shut. Its wails desperate and sad, as if it had been aware of what had just occurred to its mother. Craving the comfort that it would never receive. Already experiencing grief, even at only a few seconds old.

"It was like taking candy from a baby," Frieza laughed, waving the child at him. As if flashing a prize he had just won. "So you've finally joined the party, _monkey_."

The baby continue its relentless sobs, and Vegeta had to force himself not to look at it. He couldn't show weakness. He couldn't let Frieza know this his actions were affecting him. The Saiyan glared at him, waiting for the lizard to continue.

"I see that we have a new ape joining the crowd," Frieza's free hand slowly traced up the baby's tail, a long finger nail threatening to pierce it. Vegeta's couldn't keep his eyes from widening. It hadn't been until now that he'd even _noticed_ the tail _._ That healthy, thick extremity, which was twitching under Frieza's grasp in attempt to swat him away.

_'My son.'_ Vegeta thought, his breath shaking in his chest.

An image of Bulma's naked body pressed against his waved in his mind. Her smile, her eyes. Her arms wrapped around him, pressing her forehead into his skin. Memories of the two in heated interaction, the way she adoringly whispered his name before kissing him with fire. The way it felt to hold her close, burying his face into her hair. The images were too painful to consider, and Vegeta quickly fought them away. ' _I...'_ He thought, his stomach welling. _'I have a son.'_

As if deciding to put an end to this sentimental moment, Frieza suddenly wrapped his fingers around the tail and squeezed it tight. He grinned as the baby's sobs grew louder in response. Vegeta clenched his teeth, fighting the urge to throw a blast. He knew it would be no use. His power had long ago drained from his body.

"Stop it!" The saiyan yelled, balling his hands into fists. Why was he always so _powerless_ when it came to Frieza? No matter how long Vegeta spent training or trying to better himself, it never had been enough. Not even to protect his own _kin._

Frieza laughed, releasing the baby's tail. "Ah, ah," He sang, waving a finger at Vegeta. "It'd be a shame if any harm came to _this_ monkey because of _you_." His eyes squinted, his voice turning into a gnarl. "After all, monkeys are almost _extinct_."

Vegeta let out a growl through his teeth. He glanced at the body that was still laying in a pool of its own blood, and he felt his arms starting to shake. Flashbacks of being defeated on Namek ran through his head. ' _There's nothing I can do!'_ He thought, his chest heaving. _'He's still more powerful than me! He's destroying my kin, toying with me, and I can't do a damn thing about it!'_

The baby's cries continued to shake.

"I think it's time to silence this ugly thing," Frieza hissed. "It's starting to annoy me. Let's put it out of its misery in having a father like _you…_ " He lifted the baby above his head, raising his other arm and preparing a green blast in his palm.

"No," Vegeta growled, closing his eyes. The baby's cries grew louder, as if it could sense what was coming. Vegeta felt the hate, the frustration of being so helpless growing inside. Frieza had destroyed his planet, his childhood, his life. Now he had shown himself once again, rising up from the ashes of death, in order to destroy what little the Saiyan prince felt that he had.

And, once again, Vegeta hadn't been able to stop him.

" ** _NO_** _!_ "

Vegeta raised his palms to the ceiling. He could feel the heat in his hands as energy flowed through them, unable to find the power to release a blast. He closed his eyes and listened, thinking again on how weak he was. The baby's cries echoed in his ears, surrounding his body as he backed away. The hatred was boiling still, and he shook his head. " ** _You coward_**!" He bellowed, the anger he felt continuing to build in his palms as darkness began to envelope his mind.

" **HOW DARE YOU**!"

Sounds of Bulma's screams replayed in his ears. They swarmed around his mind, blending with the waves of the baby's cries and Frieza's laugh. The darkness Vegeta could feel swallowing him was becoming deeper, the overwhelming noise growing louder still.

"NO!"

.

Suddenly the sensations came to an end. With a jerk Vegeta opened his eyes, nearly falling out of the captain's bed. Breathing dryly, he glanced around the room.

He was in the ship.

_His ship._

His body was saturated with sweat. Vegeta struggled against the gravity to sit up, and he continued to eye his surroundings. "A dream." He breathed, his heart still pounding. He licked at his dehydrated lips, his biceps trembling.

Vegeta forced himself from the bed and fought his way to the gravity machine, slapping his hand over the power button. His body felt immediate relief as the gravity returned to normal. All he could think about was how vivid the sight of Bulma's body had been. How strong the remorse was in believing he had let her down.

Groaning, he made his way to the ship's door, chest still heaving…

… Inside the house he poured himself a glass of water, downing it with ferocity. He noticed that his hands were still shaking, and he had to close his eyes and will them to stop. Through the darkness of the house he made his way to the stairs, unable to think of anything else except the horrific images he'd seen in his dream.

Up he stepped, not taking much care into making sure he was quiet. His mind was too focused on what he'd just experienced, needing to fight the memory away. When he got to the top he glanced down the hall and began to make his way to Bulma's door. He wasn't sure what he was intending to do, but he knew that he wanted to see her. To confirm that she was in there - and that she was safe.

_Not a lifeless heap that had been slaughtered by Frieza._

Bulma had been half awake already, and she turned when she heard her door creaking open. "What?" She moaned, thinking it was her mother.

Vegeta was surprised to hear her speaking, and he slipped into the room without a word. The moon was shining in through her window, and he was able to make out her figure stretched across the bed. The commotion was enough for her to open her eyes, looking up to see what was going on. "Vegeta?" She whispered, her tone filled with surprise.

_Was it really him? He hadn't spoken to her in **weeks!**_

Vegeta reached out to run his fingers through her hair, not bothering to reply.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her voice taking on a bitter tone. Vegeta had been completely avoiding her since he'd learned the news, and now he was waking her up in the middle of the night?

_What was **with** this guy?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I hope you enjoyed reading this. As you may have noticed, I've had a bunch of unexpected free time lately. I'm working to get as many chapters posted as possible.


	16. The Bombshell

* * *

 

Bulma was staring at Vegeta through the darkness, wondering if she was having a vivid dream. He was tracing his fingers through her hair, not speaking as he watched her. His behavior was so out of character - especially since they hadn't spoken for several weeks. What could have sparked this? It couldn't be real, she decided. This _had_ to have been having a dream...

Vegeta grabbed Bulma's shoulders and lowered himself on top of her, his fingers trailing over her skin. He noted to himself that Bulma had been sleeping completely naked, and he immediately felt his body react to it, steadily awakening in arousal. He hadn't felt her touch in so many weeks, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to change that. He needed to compensate for not being able to protect her from Frieza. To rid himself of this _damned_ emotion he was so overwhelmed by.

The sensation of Vegeta laying over her, his weight pressing into hers, shed Bulma of her irritation. She had _missed_ this feeling. She had ached for his strong arms to hold her safely, had longed to feel his touch. Here it was again, and she once more wondered if she was dreaming. It seemed too random, too good to be true. Bulma wrapped her arms around Vegeta and tried to pull him closer, lifting her head as his lips came down on hers.

Vegeta's tongue slid over her lips, enjoying the warmth that was radiating from them. After a moment he used his arms to lift himself from her body and to roll over to her side. Bulma's back to Vegeta, he was spooning her as his chest pressed into her figure, and he wrapping his arms around her waist. His hands were still exploring her body, eager to become reacquainted with it.

Rough palms traced over her stomach. Her body felt slightly different than he had remembered. He noted that her stomach was much softer than before. There was less muscle tone, and it felt somewhat more flexible. Vegeta brushed his hand across her hips and landed it on the back of her legs. Sure enough, they felt slightly less firm as well. The woman really had become a bit softer during the time that had passed since they had last been intimate, and Vegeta wondered if it had anything to do with her condition of pregnancy.

_'There's something different about him,'_ Bulma thought as she considered the gentle of his touch. ' _Maybe this really is a dream.'_ His actions seemed to be fueled by affection rather than lust. Vegeta felt more like a lover at this moment than he ever had before, and Bulma just couldn't help herself. Any will that she might have had to hold herself back faded at his tender hands. If this was a dream, why _shouldn't_ she enjoy a night with the only man she had ever _truly_ loved? What harm would it do in giving in if this wasn't even _real?_

She reached her arms behind to stroke Vegeta's cheek, pushing her back deeper into him. As a result Vegeta let out a sigh, the warm air hitting her bare skin. He leaned his face to the arch of he shoulder, and he brushed his tongue across the skin. Bulma let out a small gasp, feeling goosebumps form down her arms. Upon hearing her reaction Vegeta cupped his lips around her her neck and began to suck at it, his hands trailing up and down Bulma's front. His fingers did not stop to squeeze at her breasts or fondle her core. They simply rubbed over her skin, teasing it. Enjoying it. Causing Bulma to ache with lust, moan for the need for more. She pressed her rear into Vegeta's front, enjoying the feel of his excitement as he continued his exploration of her figure.

Vegeta let out a groan into her ear, his hand sliding into the small gap between their bodies. Bulma could feel his knuckles brush against her back as he prepared to guide himself into her. She eagerly assisted him, and when he thrust inside she experienced the same sensation she had known only twice before. Letting out a long breath of air, Bulma grabbed for the sheet in front of her as Vegeta began his steady rhythm.

The tenderness he had been using seemed to fade as he lost himself in his rhythm, his hands grabbing at her chest and giving a strong squeeze. She gasped, the strength of his thrusts increasing with each repetition.

_This wasn't a dream._

Her body was still adjusting to his size as the couple moved, and she knew she'd probably ache the next day from the encounter. Vegeta was gripping her hips as he sucked her shoulder, the pressure building inside. _This_ was the Vegeta she had experienced during their previous rendezvous - _not_ the gentle lover that had just been caressing her moments before.

"Vegeta," she whispered, her voice shaking at he slammed into her. He grunted a response, dragging his tongue down her shoulder. Suddenly he pulled out and flipped her onto her back, once again arranging his body back on top of hers. Bulma was happy to oblige, enjoying the safe sense she got from his form encompassing her, surrounding her with his naked flesh. She hooked her arms under each of his, moaning as they continued their intimate dance.

Bulma had been trying to keep her voice down, but the more that the couple engaged with each other, the less she seemed to care. Vegeta was breathing heavily, groaning and grunting as he moved with her, and she wondered if her parents could hear them in the other room. He seemed to be completely lost in his own world as he held her, squeezing her tightly as her hips met his own. For him, it had been so long since their last encounter - _too_ long, and he was finding it difficult to control himself. To know that his dream of Frieza had only been a _dream…_ She was safe with him, and her body felt so warm. Underneath him, around him, the way she squirmed in pleasure. She was very much alive, and thinking this only encouraged his desire.

How long the two wrestled with one another, it was unsure, and it was to Bulma's chagrin when Vegeta reached his peak. She hadn't wanted the encounter to end, and any doubt that Bulma had about her parents hearing faded when Vegeta made that final blow. He slammed into her, letting out a strong growl as he held her hips against his, gasping for air as he came down from his high. Having already reached her own climax, Bulma was breathless as he rode out his pleasure. The warmth she had felt from their encounter was slowly starting to fade. Coming back down from her height, the Bluehead was starting to feel a sense of dread...

… Vegeta had buried his face into her neck and licked his lips dryly. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness as he held her close to him, and he panted to catch his breath…

… The dreadful feeling was still building within when Vegeta pulled out and rolled beside her, his chest still heaving as he wiped sweat from his forehead. Bulma couldn't help but to think that something must have been wrong. This wasn't a dream, after all... So what could have caused Vegeta to pay her this visit? It was so unlike him, so unwarranted and random.

"Did you," He panted. "Did you like that?"

She raised her eyebrows. During their exchange the sun had begun to slowly rise into the sky, and she could see Vegeta more clearly. Why was he asking her this? "Of course," She whispered, placing her hands over her stomach anxiously. Her fingers were shaking slightly, her body still calming from the encounter.

_'Who wouldn't have enjoyed a moment with me?'_ He thought smugly. He was still panting, but his breath was becoming more stable. "I'm going to leave."

Bulma's hands pressed deeper into her belly. "Leave?" She could feel her pulse increasing. _Surely he didn't mean..._

"I'm not making enough progress. I need to leave."

There was a slight pain as Bulma's nails dug into her own skin. " _What?!_ " She exclaimed, turning to eye Vegeta gravely. He didn't look at her - he only nodded stiffly as he watched the ceiling above.

Grabbing the pillow from underneath her, Bulma sat up and swung it at him. The pillow slammed against his face, taking him by surprise. "Hey!" He growled, grabbing the object and ripping it from her hands. This was a test to his patience. Normally Vegeta would instinctively retaliate. But this was the Woman, and he wouldn't do that to _her_. So, in an attempt to calm himself down, he dug his fingers into the fabric and glared as it ripped from the pressure. Feathers drifted through the air, falling to the mattress and the floor, as Bulma scooted away on the bed. "What's _wrong_ with you?!" She hissed, grabbing the second pillow that had been by her side and brandishing it threateningly. "You don't speak to me for weeks, and then suddenly you wake me up in the middle of the night to sleep with me?! _Then_ you tell me you're leaving, not even two seconds later?!"

"What's wrong with that? I could have _easily gone_ without giving you the dignity of knowing about it!" Vegeta scowled.

Biting her lip in frustration, Bulma stood from the bed. "Are you _kidding_?!" She was now attempting to use the pillow to shield her naked body. "And just _where_ do you think you're going to?!"

" _Away."_ Vegeta watched her with his intense eyes as she backed away. For a moment he considered telling her about his dream, about the epiphany he had made, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. "I need the ship."

Eyes watered as she watched his face, knowing fully well that he was being serious. Bulma's mouth had dropped open, and she felt as if she were going to be nauseous. Even as she fought back her tears, she felt like a fool for being so upset. How was it that she could even be shocked by this? She had already told herself that it was a lost cause to hope for a future with him. He had been so distant lately, so unable to confront his own feelings. Inside she had expected him to go, to leave her alone with a baby on the way, but she had hoped the moment wouldn't come _so soon_.

_…_ She had _hoped_ he would do the right thing…

"But Vegeta." The Bluehead whispered, her clutch on the pillow tightening. "I'll miss you…"

Hearing the gloomed tone in her words, Vegeta rolled off the bed and his pulled his lounge pants back on. He then turned to lock eyes with her, as if trying to think of something to say.

She could feel a few loose tears silently trailing down her cheeks. She could see the look in his eyes, the emotion that he was trying so hard to hide. "Vegeta - I... _I love you_." She whispered, her voice quivering as she shook her head.

It was then that Vegeta broke eye contact with her, turning quickly for the door.

"Can't you _give_ me that?" Bulma asked, choking back a sob as she watched him go. "Don't you _care_ about me, too? Can't you tell me how _you_ feel?"

He was standing in the hallway now, looking at the floor under his feet. It almost appeared that something on the carpet must have offended him, because his eyebrows were furrowed with intent thought. After a few seconds of silence, his hand quickly reached for the doorknob. "I want to depart within the hour. Bring some supplies to my ship."

* * *

"Here you go," Bulma said softly, looking at her feet as she handed a few sets of clothes to Vegeta. He took them from her and secured them into the ship's storage compartment. During her hour alone Bulma had managed to pull herself together. After all, she would have all the time in the world to lament _after_ he left...

"Good." Vegeta grunted, looking over the interior of the ship, nodding as he folded his arms. There wasn't anything left to do. All preparations had been made.

Bulma nodded, clearing her throat. She was still in such shock from the situation that she could hardly think of anything to say. "Are... you going to come back?"

The question itself seemed to irritate the saiyan, as if the answer was obvious. "Of course!" He snapped, turning and making his way to the captain's chair. "Take care of yourself, Woman." He lowerered his body into the seat. Bulma nodded again, backing towards the door. "I'll be back for those androids. In the meantime I expect you to take care of our son."

_What?_

Bulma's mouth dropped open, her hands instinctively reaching for her belly. The feel of her fingertips twisting into her own flesh was confirmation enough that he'd really said it. "It could be a girl, Vegeta."

Vegeta shook his head. "It will be _our_ _son_."

Despite the lonely fog that was forming around her, Bulma was smiling as she stepped outside of the ship. " _Our…_ He said _our._ "

It was a gift he had presented her with in such a heartbreaking moment. The acknowledgment that he had created a life with her. He was no longer in denial about the baby's paternity. This was _his_ child, and he was accepting it. A vow that he would return. A request that she keep the baby safe. An unspoken promise that he was feeling protective. Bulma walked backed into the house and sat down in the kitchen, watching the space ship from the window as it charged into power and began to lift from the ground.

She wiped a tear from her eye, trying to ignore the aching feeling that was forming in her thighs. It seemed they had been a bit too rough during that morning's tryst, but she had expected it as soon as she realized she hadn't simply been dreaming...

_"He'll be back."_ She whispered, forcing another smile to her cheeks. "Vegeta. You'd better come back..."

* * *

The stars that were flying by in the distance almost appeared to not be moving at all. Vegeta kept a straight expression on his face as he swallowed back the pit in his stomach that had been looming ever since he'd seen her cries. He was soaring through the galaxy, unsure of his destination, but all he knew was that this was necessary.

_'Kakarot trained in only 100 gravity and he became a super saiyan,'_ He thought to himself. ' _Obviously there's more to it than gravity, or I would have reached it by now!'_

He was going to find the answer, one way or another. As far as he was concerned, if he couldn't even achieve super Saiyan then he stood no chance against those androids. This was going to be his only way.

With each passing second the ship was traveling further away from Earth. There was no turning back now. He had managed to stand strong and break away before his mind convinced him to stay. Perhaps it would take him a few hours, but Vegeta was determined to start feeling like his _old self._ The only way to advance was to have total and complete self-interest, wasn't it? This was the life he had grown up with. _This_ was the pass-time that he knew best. He was surrounded by the darkness of the large, lonely galaxy. The never-ending emptiness that wrapped around him like an icy hug.

This was life when you were the last competent being of a nearly extinct race.

_'I am going to find the secret.'_ He thought, grinning as he gripped his armrests. ' _It's the only way I can become the most powerful being in the universe.'_

He was going to become a super Saiyan.


	17. That Little Bump

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who continues to read and offer support! It means a lot and encourages me to keep updating as often as I can! I have been having fun proof-reading these chapters and adding little tweaks to fix them up as I go.
> 
> This chapter may feel like a filler. Something I attempted to address in this story is the personality changes and emotions that Bulma experiences as she becomes a mother. She struggled with her own needs, her desire to make things work with Vegeta, and the duty she has to do what is right for her son. We start to see the beginning of that in this chapter. Some people felt that by doing this I made her into a pushover, but that wasn't my intentions and I don't personally think I did. She's just emotional, and rightly so. 
> 
> My hope is that, as a reader, her conflicting priorities that we'll see in the upcoming chapters are received as understandable and real. :) We'll also continue to see the conflicting emotions in Vegeta (along with his good and bad reactions) as he goes through his own change, but that's been a transition we've been reading since the beginning. ;)

* * *

 

Bulma stood naked in front of the mirror in her room. She look at her body thoughtfully, turning from side to side. It had been a little over a week since Vegeta had left, which meant that it had also been a little over a week since Bulma had to explain to her parents that Vegeta was gone, and all she knew was that he would come back at _some_ point. It had been _a little over a week_ since Bulma had been stuck in a daze of bouncing emotions, feeling optimistic one minute and melancholy the next.

" _When will he be back?"_ Mr. Briefs had asked. _"I hope he's not planning to be gone for too long or the ship will run out of fuel."_ Bulma had shrugged these worries off, though inside she couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety. _"He's too smart to let it run out of fuel, Dad! He'll be back before that happens."_

For the first couple of days Bulma had been stuck in a loop. She would wake up in the morning, feeling a lack of motivation to get out of bed. ' _He's gone'_ were the words that always played over in her head. When Vegeta had left he had told Bulma that he would be back, and he had ordered her to take care of _their_ son. It was just like Vegeta to do something like that - to disguise an emotional promise as a strict command. Sure, this had briefly comforted her for a few hours. But, the longer Bulma sat in her house with her paranoid thoughts, the less content she felt.

 _Vegeta was gone -_ and she had no way to truly know if he would actually come back.

 _'If he had cared about me he would have stayed,'_ The anxious voice in her head mused.

_'If he cared about our baby he would be here.'_

_'If he really loved me he would have been able to tell me. I even asked him to, and he still wouldn't say it...'_

If somebody were to ask Bulma to describe how she felt, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to. There was a side of her that was determined to tough out any situation, to prove Vegeta wrong and prove that she was strong. This side had a voice that would sometimes tell her ' _you're better off like this, he wasn't right for you. You're a prize catch, and a guy would have to be crazy not to go with you!;_

Another side of Bulma was still in shock, feeling completely numb to anything going on. This side had a voice that said ' _what is the point to anything?'_

And there was a third side. This side was the part of Bulma that would make her lay still with anxiety and fear. Fear of what her future would bring. Fear of the impending Androids. Fear at the thought of being a mother with no support from the father. Fear that she would never meet a man that she would ever love as much as Vegeta. Fear of being alone. It was this side that seemed to speak louder than the others to Bulma lately. When it spoke to her she would nod in agreement, curling into bed and wiping tears from her cheeks during another sleepless night.

This side had a voice that said ' _You weren't good enough.'_

..

Bulma was now eying the small pouch that was developing at her front torso as she stood in front of her mirror. She was _just_ over two months along at this point, and her figure had already started filling out. It was something that she hadn't been expecting so soon, but here it was. That little bump. Bulma placed her hand over her stomach and squeezed it, noting the small fold of flesh that was clasped between her fingers. "My body's changing so fast," She observed out loud, shifting her head to its side. "How strange..."

"Bulma, dear!" Mrs. Briefs called. It made the Bluehead jump. Her mother could walk in at any minute, and it left Bulma feeling vulnerable to have her naked figure exposed. Acting fast, she pulled her skirt over her legs, fighting with its zipper. "I'm almost ready!" She called. She hadn't exactly been looking forward to this day. She had avoided thinking about it, putting it out of her mind for as long as she could. But this moment was bound to come, whether she liked it or not.

"Hurry! We don't wanna be late! I'll be in the car!" Mrs. Briefs urged, disappearing down the hall. Bulma snapped her bra on and pulled a tank top over it. She grabbed a striped jacket and threw it on, reaching for her purse. She still wasn't used to feeling quite so _bouncy_ when she walked, and she relished the idea of being able to cover her body a little. "Okay, okay! Sheesh!"

Inside the car Bulma watched as buildings and trees blurred past. She was sucking on her lower lip and trying to tune out her mother's singing. It was moments like these that she dreaded the most. Moments when she was in the company of others, but still felt incredibly alone... Moments when she couldn't do anything other than sit with her own thoughts, helpless to her wandering mind as it drifted to places she couldn't control.

… Of course, this usually resulted in thoughts of Vegeta.

_'I wonder what he's doing out there...'_

There had never been any doubt about his feelings towards her. Bulma had seen it all in his eyes; the lust, the concern, the guilt, the pride.

 _That pride!_ It was this trait that Bulma had found the most enticing, yet the most vexing. If it hadn't been for his _damned_ _pride_ he would have been able to hold her close and tell her how he felt. If he weren't for his damned ego, he would have been able to be _with_ her at that very moment, to offer support during such an anxious time...

How envious Bulma felt of her mother, sitting beside her and merrily reciting one of her favorite songs. Mrs. Briefs didn't have to worry about unrequited love... Her mother didn't have to worry about raising a child alone. In fact, she didn't have a damned care in the world!

Sighing, the Bluehead allowed her body to sink lower into her seat.

She felt so _alone_.

...

Bulma laid back on the table, her legs spread open. The technician was rubbing a thick looking gel over a device that was, well, _awkward_ in appearance. It was a long tube, and Bulma knew _exactly_ where it was going to go. She couldn't help but to blush as she thought of her mother sitting next to her.

 _'What would Vegeta think during a time like this?'_ Initially a sad thought, Bulma suddenly found herself fighting back a giggle. ' _He would probably get jealous of the **machine** for touching me!'_ This conjured up the image of Vegeta grabbing the technician and throwing him out the window, in a similar fashion to what he had done to Yamcha. She was still stifling a laugh when the technician positioned himself between her legs and disappeared behind a blanket.

"Now, if you would just relax your muscles for me..." The technician instructed. Bulma couldn't see what the professional was doing at this point, but she didn't particularly think she cared to. The technician had placed a cloth over Bulma's open legs for the very purpose of blocking her view, hadn't he? Trying to stare at the ceiling and tune out her surroundings, Bulma couldn't help but stiffen when she felt the device sliding inside.

_… Pregnancy was more violating than she'd anticipated..._

"Oh!" Mrs. Briefs gasped, covering her mouth. She was looking up at a TV that was on display beside them. Bulma looked up, too, her eyes not registering what she was seeing. The monitor displayed a black screen, some words etched in small characters on the upper border. In the blackness she could grey and white – it nearly looked like a vacuum with a small figure inside of it.

"Yes, there's no doubt about it," The technician said, a smile in his voice. Bulma attempted to lean closer, narrowing her eyes as she focused on the small figure on the screen. Sure enough, she could make out the shape a tiny head, tiny arms, and tiny legs. She had been expecting to see a small white dot - not the faint silhouette of a baby.

It was _already_ a baby...

"Look," Mrs. Briefs whispered.

"Is that _really_ it? I thought it would be smaller?" Bulma breathed dumbly, her eyes widening as she watched. She could see small movements on the screen as the figure swayed.

"Well, you _are_ 10 weeks along," The technician replied. "It has a healthy heart beat too, this is really good news considering that your chart says you've already suffered from some _setbacks_."

Bulma had been so distracted watching the T.V. that she hadn't thought to identify the loud noise she could hear coming from its speakers. That loud swaying in a steady rhythm, like a calm breeze that refused to relent.

_The baby's heart beat._

"Oh my..." She breathed, a small smiling lacing over her lips. Mrs. Briefs grabbed Bulma's hand to give it a firm squeeze, wiping a tear from her eye. "Oh Bulma," She was grinning. "I've never felt so happy!"

..

_Whether he'd done it intentionally or not, Vegeta had gifted Bulma with many firsts._

It was because of him that she had experienced what _true_ love felt like for the first time. It was because of him that she had understood how to practice patience, coping with his periods of sour mood. She didn't like it when he acted like that, but she was able to dig inside herself and muster _patience_ she hadn't thought possible when she had been with Yamcha - the ability to really try and understand his feelings. It was because of Vegeta that she had experienced the sensation of _true_ pleasure when they slept together, for she had never felt something like his body before.

Now, to add to that list, she was experiencing _another_ first. The overwhelmingly wonderful fear that came with creating a new life.

Trees whirled past as Mrs. Briefs drove them home. Bulma eyed the printed image that the technician had handed her before the appointment concluded. The baby had been laying on its side, the head and legs very distinct. She had been so terrified at the idea of visiting the doctor that morning. She knew there would be no denying her condition once the ultrasound confirmed it, and the aspect of that had absolutely petrified her. Yet now she couldn't stop beaming from ear to ear, studying the picture with curious amazement. The Bluehead couldn't _wait_ to show her father when she got home. She couldn't even wait for her next appointment! She was immediately excited to see her baby again through the monitor. She had never experienced such a connection with something that she hadn't technically even met, and she was craving to feel it again. To _bond_ with it.

It was a warmth that encompassed her whole body as she looked down at her stomach, fingers tenderly tracing over _her small bump_.

" _Take care of our son,_ " Vegeta's words replaced in her ears.

The Bluehead couldn't help but to think of her baby as a boy, too. Perhaps it was how confident Vegeta spoke of it, or perhaps it was simply a mother's intuition. She wasn't nearly far enough along to actually confirm the gender, but there was no doubt in Bulma's mind that this was going to be a baby boy.

"Our son," she whispered, looking out the window.

_"Vegeta..."_

* * *

The saiyan prince was ecstatic. He had been aching to have a fight - a _real_ fight with another _person -_ for _so_ long. He had just set his ship's course to the planet up ahead, where he had sensed life forms inhabiting it. The power levels didn't seem to be very strong, but Vegeta ignored this. At least they were _living._

For his entire life Vegeta had lived to destroy. He used to travel far and wide, vanquishing the life forms on countless planets and delivering the empty shells to Frieza. Now he was free to conquer any planet he wanted to, with no competition. Nobody to report to. It was a life that Vegeta had thought of from time to time, but had never believed would really come true. Frieza was dead, and Vegeta was now the strongest being in the universe - or at least, he _would_ be once he surpassed Kakarot…

… Now, standing in his ship, the Saiyan was readying himself to conquer his _first_ planet as Lord Vegeta.

This was the life he had been destined to live! Vegeta told himself this repetitively, despite the slightly sick feeling that had been lurking in his veins. ' _The only reason that this doesn't feel right is because it's been so long since I've conquered! I've just allowed myself to grow weak!'_

He would assure himself of this whenever that _dreaded_ feeling would return.

 _'I am the most powerful being in the universe!'_ He would think. _'Just do it once, and it will feel natural again!'_

The ship was drawing closer to that purple planet, and his heart was starting an unsteady rhythm. Was this excitement? Yes - it _had_ to be! He was going to land soon! There was no way this was anxiety - it _had_ to be anticipation!

_It had to be._

He was going to get the fight he had been craving for so long.


	18. Get a Grip

* * *

The ship had just landed on hard ground, and Vegeta made his way to the door. He could see that the vegetation growing on this planet's surface was a pale shade of magenta. "Time to start again," He grunted, stepping out and getting a firm look at his surroundings. He could see several creatures several meters ahead, cowering back even as he watched. They were visibly trembling as they huddled together, eying him with trepidation. Vegeta made sure to give them a hard glare, listening as the ship's door slammed behind him.

"I am Lord Vegeta!" He called, his feet digging into the planet's soil as he straightened his posture. "It would be to **_your_** benefit to surrender to me!" His eyes focused on one of the male creatures at random, and he pointed at it. " **You**. Step forward at once!"

The creature hesitated, pointing at itself in hopeful denial. " _Me?"_

"Yes, **you**! Now come forward before I am forced to show you what happens when inferiors defy me!" Even as he said this, Vegeta knew he was making a bluff. He had given the people of this planet more credit than they deserved, and he knew there would be no benefit to fighting this being. He could destroy the entire planet with the flick of his wrist if he wanted to, be he would grow no stronger from it than he would if did an hour of pushups. Nevertheless Vegeta was sure to pop his chest out as he spoke - his new goal with this being was to assert his dominance instead.

The creature slowly stepped away from the crowd. The inhabitants of this planet had the typical form of a humanoid. They stood upright on two legs, had two arms, and a proportionate head. On their faces were large, round noses that almost resembled small apples. Their bodies were accented with red fuzzy skin, and round blue eyes. This creature seemed to act on instinct as he lowered himself to his knees, bowing his head. "H-How may I assist you, L-Lord V-Vegeta?"

"Good boy." Vegeta smirked. "I want you to tell me where the strongest fighter you know is. **Right now**!"

The creature picked his head up, eyes wide in horror. "I-I don't know!"

"Oh, you _don't_ _know_?" Raising an eyebrow, Vegeta aimed his palm at the creature threateningly. "Are you _sure_ about that?"

The creature let out a scared wail. "L-Lord Vegeta! We Skamanians are a peaceful race! We do not have fighters here! We do not _know_ violence!"

Vegeta narrowed his eyes until they appeared to be fine slits. "Are you _sure_ about that, _boy_? Not even _one_ warrior? Not even on your neighboring planets?!"

The Skamanian shook its head before bowing back down to his knees. "W-we live in peace!"

"Damn it!" Vegeta growled, dropping his palm. He had been so intrigued at the idea of landing on a new planet that he had ignored the fact that there wasn't much of a power level coming from this race. He thought they'd at least be of _some_ use to him. ' _Of all planets, I had to pick one filled with weaklings! How am I supposed to get any training done when I can't even have a competent challenge!'_ He thought. Letting out a frustrated yell, he turned back to the group of huddled Skamanians and shot a blast over their heads. The beam exploded within a distant mountain, which caused the red creatures to jump. "I came here for a fight and I expect one!"

The group disbanded then, each Skamanian screaming in terror as it fled for cover.

"If not _one_ of you are willing to stand up for yourselves, I am going to _conquer_ this planet! Do you hear me!?" Vegeta barked as he rose from the ground. He had been sensing a decent sized amount of ki nearby, which he presumed was some type of village. Perhaps one of the mortals living in it would be of use to him. "One by one, you're all going to suffer my wrath!" And with that, he took off towards into the sky. The terrified yells that the group was emitting faded in the distance as he flew away.

What a fool he was to choose this puny planet! Vegeta didn't know what he was thinking! Hell, he couldn't sense a single ki worthy of even raising its voice! So why had he decided to land? Something about this place had obviously drawn him to it, but he was now cursing himself for acting so irrationally. How much time had he wasted in setting his course for this world?. He hadn't been involved in an actual fight in _months_. Vegeta had warrior blood coursing through his veins, and he _needed_ to indulge in a battle!

If he didn't get one soon, he was going to go _crazy!_

Landing in the center of the village now, Vegeta's feet hit the ground with a hard thud. It must have been true that Skamanians on this planet were not accustomed to violence, because they didn't seem alert enough to even pay him notice. Looking around, Vegeta watched as these red fuzzy creatures walked past. Speaking to each other casually, purchasing from the street's merchants, and sipping on some sort of bubbly tea, all citizens were participating in their daily routines. While he was getting a couple of odd looks by the nearby Skamanians, none of them seemed to be particularly terrified that a feral saiyan had just landed in front of them! Evidently, brutality was the _last_ thing on any of their minds!

What kind of greeting was _this?_ He was _Lord Vegeta,_ was he not?! It was then that he noticed a statue of a seemingly random Skamanian, perhaps one that had been a king at some point. He raised his palm and shot it with a blast, smiling as it exploded into thousands of small shards.

This did it.

Finally, these villagers were screaming!

Vegeta watched as what seemed like hundreds of Skamanians jumped into huts and ducked behind structures, attempting to shield themselves from the unfriendly invader. He analysed each one's ki as it ran by, trying to decide if it was worth making an opponent out of any of them. Once again he found himself wondering why had he chosen _this_ planet.

He _needed_ to fight.

He had gone so long training with only himself that he been craving the feeling of a living, breathing opponent. He was _craving_ it – much worse than ever before. But he wasn't going to get one. Not on the cowardly planet. These _jokes_ couldn't even direct him to a more superior world!

It would be _days_ before he would reach a new planet with life on it - and for all he knew that planet would be no better.

He just couldn't stand the thought of having to wait any longer! The idea only pissed him off!

"Which one of you are going to stand up to me!" He barked. By now most of the creatures had managed to disappear from sight. "Do _none_ of you have _any_ pride!?"

He began to hover across the village, eyeing the now deserted streets. He could sense the low power levels that hummed from the hiding spots of the Skamanians. ' _The_ f _ools'_ he thought with a smirk. They all thought they were so _cleverly_ hidden.

Suddenly his eyes settled on a specific hut.

There was something about it that _really_ caught his eye, but it was more than that. He couldn't put his finger on what, but there was _something_ inside that seemed to be _pulling_ him to it, like some type of magnet. Despite how puny the ki coming from it felt, he couldn't deny the aura that was so enticing. "Alright" He grinned, taking off for its roof. The hut appeared to be made with some type of bamboo and hay.

_A rather weak design, but it more than suited these pathetic creatures._

He blasted away the building's roof, "Come out of there at once!" He barked, advancing towards the hole he'd created. Once above the hut he was able to look down into the house, examining its contents. Vegeta could see evidence of life; an empty bed, a table with dishes of food on it, clothes scattered on the floor. But he couldn't see any Skamanians that had been living in it.

Obviously, they were in hiding.

Vegeta lowered himself into the dining area, giving the room a closer look. "I know you're in here! Show yourself!" He called, eying his surroundings. Of _all_ the power readings he had picked up on this planet, whoever's home he was in had one of the stronger readings. He walked to the table that had been vacated, heat still rising from the food on the dishes.

 _It seemed he had just interrupted someone's meal_ …

He rubbed a rough finger across the surface of the table lazily, counting the time in his head. He could sense the ki inside of a nearby cabinet, and he was trying to give it enough dignity to show itself. He listened closely, noting the soft movement coming from inside. Whoever was hiding in there had just shifted their weight. It was then that Vegeta decided to end the moment of suspense. He turned and made his way to the furniture, loudly clicking his boots as he went.

"Time's up."

His anger had softened slightly by now, the sight of food reminding him of the warm meals that the blonde woman back on Earth had always been so happy to cook for him. But he was prepared to have fun intimidating whichever creature was hiding inside, and that memory alone wasn't going to stop him from doing it. Pulling to cabinet door off its hinges, Vegeta had a vicious expression on his face as he ripped the fixture open.

Once his eyes adjusted to the dark lighting inside the cabinet, Vegeta focused on the shadow he could see huddled in a corner. He backed away to let more light in, and his eyes widened when he made out what it was.

It was a female, breathing hysterically as she trembled in fear. She was sitting with her knees bent at her chest, curled around a small child that she hugged into her body. The child had its arms clasped around her neck, its face buried into her bosom in desperation. The female's cheeks were flushed with tears, her hands clasped over her baby's head. She was avoiding eye contact with Vegeta, and was instead focusing on the child's face.

Vegeta backed away further, his mouth dropping open.

She was hugging that infant so close. Vegeta noted the palm of her hand as it traced along the child's back, trying to comfort it even in the face of impending doom. She had been huddled in there, trying to protect her kin, and even during a sure moment of brutality she was whispering to it that everything would be alright.

Vegeta's mind flashed back to the dream that had disturbed him so bad. _The image of Bulma screaming as Frieza slaughtered her body... the sound of her voice as she desperately tried to fight him away..._

As he watched this female, he couldn't help but see Bulma's face reflecting back at him. He saw the Bluehead trying to protect her own child from disaster – she could _easily_ be in this Skamanian's place…

Nausea brewing, Vegeta's jaw tightened.

 _What had he been **doing**? _ He had wanted a fight, but he had allowed his anger to get the best of him... He had been acting like _Frieza..._

"Girl." Vegeta said, his voice cracking. "Look at me."

The female Skamanian's breath seemed to stop in her chest, and her hand immediately stopped circling on her child's back. Tightening her grip on the baby, she appeared to be petrified with fear now.

Vegeta balled his hands into fists and backed away even more. _He had done this to her -_ he really was no better than Frieza!

' _This isn't right. This isn't right.'_ He thought, feeling overwhelmed with the voice in his head. ' ** _This_** _isn't **right**.'_

"Girl." Vegeta repeated. " _Look at me."_

She shook with hesitation, but the Skamanian bravely raised her eyes. Slowly and lingering, she seemed to be taking as much time as she could to lift her gaze. And when her eyes finally met Vegeta's, he had to take another step back.

All of the Skamanian's that he had seen so far had carried those round, blue eyes. And when this one locked her gaze with Vegeta, it reminded him _too much_ of _Bulma…_ Those deep blue eyes...

 _'Damn it…'_ He thought, his biceps beginning to tremble. The sick feeling in his stomach was now almost unbearable. "I am leaving." His voice shook. He turned his back to her, swallowing a dry lump. "You have no reason to be afraid of me. As long as your people do not cross me, you shall all remain safe. I vow this much."

She was holding her breath as she warily watched him, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. It was obvious that she was afraid to get her hopes up, afraid that if she moved he would change his mind.

"Your planet has nothing to offer me!" Vegeta growled, focusing his energy as he powered up. His heart was pounding now, sweat forming along his hairline. Within a few seconds Vegeta was letting out a frustrated yell, taking off into the sky and making a dash for the ship. ' _What is wrong with me?!'_ He thought furiously. ' _A few months ago I wouldn't have thought twice about that mortal!'_

No time was wasted in taking off from that dreaded planet, his arms still shaking as he gave in to the sick feeling in his gut. He coughed as he bent over the toilet in the ship, violently emptying his stomach. His heart pounding in his ears, eyes watering from the intensity of his body's convulsions. ' _What is wrong with me?'_ He thought again. He was supposed to be a tough, merciless warrior. _This_ was how he spent his first purge of free will? He hadn't been able to even begin, instead fleeing to his ship, overwhelmed by thoughts of _Her?!_

What was his life without brutality? What was his purpose if he didn't have _that_?!

With each passing moment Vegeta was feeling worse. Images of the Skamanian hugging her offspring replayed in his mind like an unforgiving lecture, and he was simultaneously horrified at how utterly _weak_ he'd become. How much he had _failed._

He had failed at conquering the planet.

He had failed at finding a worthy opponent.

He had _still_ failed at becoming a super saiyan.

 _'How can it be that this is my life?'_ Vegeta thought, wiping filth from his mouth as he picked his head up out of the toilet. ' _How can Kakarot continue being stronger than me, while I am reduced to **this**?!'_

Vegeta took a seat in the captain's chair, watching the stars blur past in the distance. Catching his breath, the saiyan did all he could to clear his mind of _Bulma._ He couldn't focus on her right now – he'd had a mission by going into space, and he was determined to accomplish that.

He couldn't become the Legendary by stooping to Frieza's level. He just needed to think of what to do.

 _He needed to come up with a new plan_.


	19. A Purpose

* * *

Bulma woke up with a cold sweat, sitting upright in the dark. She reached over and placed a weak hand on the glass of water she had left on the bedside table. It had been yet another dream that felt much too real, and her fingers trembled as she placed the glass to her lips.

It seemed that every evening was heartache. Weeks had passed, and slowly Bulma had gotten better at distracting herself during the day. She would read, she would work, she'd clean, and she would think about her baby... Anything the Bluehead could find to focus her attention on, she would, and it helped to pass her time with minimal pain.

Night time, on the other hand, was a different story.

On some nights she would feel so exhausted that she would be out in an instant, her heavy body still sinking into the mattress when sleep came on her. But it was more often than not that she would lay awake for hours after shutting off the light, staring into the darkness above her, thinking about Vegeta, and wallowing with anxiety.

_Was he okay?_

_Was he making progress?_

_Was he thinking of her?_

Regardless of how successful Bulma had been at keeping Vegeta out of her thoughts, she would almost always dream about him. Sometimes she would dream about him speaking with her, opening up more than he ever had been able to in person. Other times her dreams would simply be memories of moments they had shared; their child-like arguments, the way he would speak to Yamcha in her defence, the feel of his arms and the comfort of his embrace. It was these dreams in particular - these _physical_ dreams - that bothered Bulma the most.

It was nearly too much to bear when she would wake up after having visions of reuniting with him, only to realize that she was still very much alone in her own bed.

Bulma hated those moments of sobering reality, when she'd lay in her empty mattress and feel her stomach turn as she remembered how far away he was. How nauseating it was when insecurities set in, and she wondered if he really would return…

… Tonight Bulma had suffered one of those physical dreams, but by now she was becoming more used to them. She was hardly surprised at all when she awoke to remember that she was pregnant with the child of a man who she _hoped_ would do the right thing, but had relatively little to base that faith on. The Bluehead took another swig from her glass and sighed. She noted that the sun had already begun to rise into the sky, and this was fairly comforting.

 _At least this meant she could just stay up,_ rather than run the risk of having another terrible dream...

Now about 15 weeks along, the Bluehead had started to encounter more typical pregnancy symptoms. The latest was that she'd been suffering from waves of _real_ nausea. Not false alarms like what she'd experienced early on, these moments came to her in ripples that sometimes left emptying her poor stomach into the nearest bin. Other times they hit her with such intensity that she found herself doubled over next to the toilet, only to feel the sickness fade away as soon as it came. Despite this, now that she was eating enough, her health had improved so much since the night she had fainted in Vegeta's bed that her doctor had taken her off of iron supplements. Her new instructions were to take prenatal vitamins each day.

Another symptom Bulma was encountering lately was _nesting_.

When she was feeling good, Bulma enjoyed flipping through catalogs and picking out supplies for her new baby. She also found herself organizing her room, trying to discard anything that she felt would be in the way once the baby came. The maternal instincts that were already kicking in told her to remove as much clutter as possible, and she was eager to oblige. In doing this she had accumulated quite an unexpected amount of junk that Yamcha had left behind.

' _Yamcha,'_ Bulma thought, partly bitter and partially awkward. His possessions had been piling up so much that she had begun packing them all into his _box_ \- that **_precious_** box of his that he made _such_ a big deal out of! "How could he have even _brought_ something like this here?" Bulma hissed, scowling as she tossed a bikini magazine on top of the pile. If one thing was certain about Vegeta, it was that he was _much_ more classy than Yamcha ever was!

She slammed the lid of the box shut, putting it back into the corner she'd designated for it. It had been about a week since she had started packing items into it, and Bulma was getting tired of having to look at it. The Bluehead had originally intended to make _Yamcha_ be the first person to break the silence after their last encounter, but this morning she decided she was exhausted of waiting. She needed that _stupid_ box, filled with his _ridiculous_ items and magazines, out of her house! And once the sun was high enough in the sky that Bulma was confident he was awake, she picked up her phone.

..

A few hours later Yamcha was standing on Bulma's doorstep and preparing himself to knock. Although the Z Fighter hadn't been _too_ surprised to learn about Bulma and Vegeta, he couldn't get past the idea of the two actually _being_ together.

He just hated Vegeta too much to get over it! Yet, when Bulma called him and asked for him to come over, he couldn't bring himself to say no. As much as they got on each other's nerves, there would always be a place in his heart for _her_. And it really had been so long since he had seen her! Perhaps it had been _too_ long, because he was slightly taken aback when she answered the door.

Looking into her face for the first time in months, Yamcha couldn't help but think that something about it was _different…_ Somehow it seemed fuller that he remembered, and the expression she held was what he could only describe as _tired_. It was as if something had been greatly stressing her out, and Bulma was starting to give in from the weight of her woes. Although her eyes smiled at him, there was a distant, heavy, look in them. A grim flare that he wasn't used to seeing in _her._

"What happened to you?" Yamcha asked, raising his eyebrows. It wasn't normal for her to be so conservative about her body, but today Bulma was sporting a loose sweater with a pair of baggy sweat pants. It was an outfit that she was purposely chosen for Yamcha's visit. She thought that if she stayed far enough away from him, and if she wore such a clothes, he might not notice the bump that had begun protruding from her body.

Letting himself into the house, Yamcha began to circle Bulma slowly, eying her up and down. "There's something different about you…" He commented suspiciously, inspecting her as if she were an item he was wanting to purchase.

"Hey!" Bulma snapped, crossing her arms in attempt to shield her body. "I forgot how _creepy_ you can be!"

"Jeez!" He replied, his eyes snapping back up to her face. Bulma's expression still reflected a wariness, but there was now the fire in her eyes that he had come to expect from her. She really _was_ looking a bit more round in the face, but with her objections it was hard to get a good enough look at the rest of her body to tell much of a difference.

"Anyway," He cleared his throat. "How's _Vegeta_?" The saiyan's name dripped from his tongue as if it were a foul piece of garbage. Some of the fire that was in Bulma's eyes seemed to fade at the mention of it. Yamcha could tell she was trying to hide her reaction.

_It irritated him._

"Oh," Bulma said softly. "He's not on Earth anymore."

" _What_?" Yamcha's eyes widened. He hadn't exactly been expecting this, but he also wasn't very surprised.

"Yeah. He said he wanted to train... or something." The Bluehead forced a smile. "I guess he hasn't become a Super Saiyan yet, whatever _that_ is..." It was all becoming so clear to him now. Yamcha could understand why Bulma seemed to be so stressed! She had been pining away for Vegeta while he was gone! The worry that Bulma's eyes glistened with seemed so obvious to him now – how had he not seen it before?

' _What is wrong with her?'_ He thought, jealousy brewing inside. What did she see in him? Vegeta was nothing more than a heartless monster! Even after Vegeta had obviously _used_ Bulma and left her, she was _this_ bummed about him!? What was so great about _him!?_ As far as Yamcha was concerned, he had been just as vicious towards Bulma as he had been towards anyone else. So why was she allowing herself to be so bent up about him? That girl didn't seem to be _half_ this concerned when she had broken up with Yamcha, and he couldn't handle the idea of that.

 _'I'll show her!'_ The Z-Fighter thought. He'd make her realize how foolish she was to be so wistful over that _freak!_ And so, after clearing his throat, the Z-Fighter spoke so bluntly that it almost came out as a yell. "Well, don't count on him coming back!"

Bulma pursed her lips at this. "Why not?" She asked curtly. She didn't want to hear anything negative about the man who had fathered her unborn child.

She wasn't in the slightest mood for it.

"King Kai told me something about Super Saiyans when Goku was fighting Frieza." Yamcha continued.

" _King Kai_?"

"Yeah! I was training with him after I died! Don't you _remember?_ When you got back on Earth after leaving Namek? When I spoke to you through King Kai? I told you to wish me back with the Dragon Balls?!" Yamcha's face reflected his serious tone as he spoke, and the look was starting to irritate Bulma. " _Remember_?!"

"Yeah, I _remember_!" She snapped, biting her lip. He _really_ had a way of irritating her… "What _about_ him?"

"Well, when Goku became Super Saiyan on Namek, King Kai was worried! He told me that Goku would lose himself with the power he had achieved. King Kai thought he was going _to lose control of himself_!" Yamcha explained, urgency in his voice. He was speaking the truth, but he knew that his jealousy was what really motivated him to share this with the Bluehead. He wanted it to get through to her that she was better off forgetting about that spiky haired _freak!_ He wanted to make her feel dumb for even _trying_ with him!

Bulma's brows furrowed. "So?" She growled. "Nothing happened to Goku! He beat Frieza and came home to train his son! Don't _you **remember**_ that?"

Yamcha threw both of his hands in the air to emphasize his point. "Don't you get it?! Vegeta isn't _like_ Goku! He's emotionless! All he cares about is fighting and destroying! If he _ever_ becomes a Super Saiyan, I bet he'll lose control just like King Kai predicted! He'll become even more of a merciless tyrant! Do you think he'll come back for you once that happens? No! He'll go on a killing spree!"

"How dare you!" Bulma hissed, scowling as she backed away. "Anything you _ever_ have to say about Vegeta is how awful he is! He isn't as bad as you, or _anyone_ else, makes him out to be!" Her arms were crossed and she was turning her back towards him. "He wouldn't do that! Vegeta is too strong to lose control over himself! He cares too much about _us!_ "

Yamcha was secretly glad that he was getting to her, but the fact that she was still defending that _monster_ was frustrating. "I'm just telling you the truth, Bulma! You should just forget about him and move on!"

"You haven't even given him enough of a chance to see anything good in him!" Bulma replied, pointing a finger. "Well, I _have_! And he deserves a lot more respect than anyone ever gives him!"

"Hey, you _do_ remember that he _killed_ me?" Yamcha asked. "Did you forget about that?" Even as they argued, he couldn't help but feel relieved. He fought back a smile as his ex-girlfriend yelled at him. He could tell that his words were starting to get to her, even if she wasn't willing to admit it. _This_ was the Bulma he knew!

Bulma shook her head. " _He_ was acting under the command of Frieza! And _Vegeta_ didn't kill you, anyway!" The fire burning in her eyes was starting to warm her face, and her worn out expression was starting to fade. "It was that other guy! The giant, stupid one! Him and his creepy green men! _Vegeta_ just stood there and watched!"

Yamcha opened his mouth to snap something back, but he ended up just staring at her dumbly instead. There was no use in this fight. It was as if he were yelling at a building. She was as stubborn as a brick, and the only person who would change Bulma's mind was Bulma _herself_. Yamcha couldn't help but to bitterly think that is Vegeta weren't so _damned_ evil, the two would have been perfect for each other. They were both so rigid!

"Okay," He said blandly, trying to think of a way to change the subject. "I just thought you should know. But hey, is that food I smell?"

Bulma turned to sniff the air. Sure enough, the odor of freshly cooked stew was wafting through the house. Now that she was pregnant, The Bluehead was always counting down the minutes until her next meal, and this odor was enough to lighten her mood greatly. "Okay," She nodded. "Let's eat! But first! You have to apologize to me!"

* * *

Vegeta had landed on a dead planet.

Whatever life forms had ruled this world had ceased to exist long ago. There was no color radiating from this world's surface. Just a dark shell. The only source of light was coming from the stars that shined above, thousands of light-years away. The saiyan stood on top of one of this planet's cold mountains and listened to the deathly silence as his mind raced.

He had been struggling with his sense of purpose.

His entire life Vegeta had lived to cause ruin. He had served under Frieza's rule, wiping out civilizations with the flick of his wrist. For years he had waited for the moment when he would be strong enough to destroy Frieza for once and for all. To make Frieza pay for the destruction of his home planet, for taking Vegeta away from his throne and his father. To make Frieza pay for his tyranny. Vegeta wanted to see the look on Frieza's face when he realized that he _wasn't_ the strongest being in the universe. To see his expression as he begged for mercy at the prince's own hands. To hear his screams as Vegeta ended his reign after so many years.

He had _lived_ for it.

Yet he hadn't gotten that moment. It had been _Kakarot._

For years Vegeta had waited and trained, finally believing his moment had come when he realized that he could wish for immortality with the Dragon Balls. But Kakarot had ruined it. Kakarot had swooped in and taken Vegeta's moment away from him - the one that he had spent the majority of his life preparing for.

As soon as Frieza had been killed, all that Vegeta had been waiting for was gone. No longer could he aim to have his revenge on the tyrant. Someone else had already _stolen_ it from it.

… Now Vegeta found himself with a new goal, and only one.

 _To become stronger than Kakarot._ How long he had spent training, trying to increase his strength so that he could become a Super Saiyan and compete with that low-class disgrace? He had spent so many days - so many months working on this - and for nothing!

Vegeta _still_ wasn't a Super Saiyan!

He had nowhere to go. With each day that passed and he still hadn't become Legendary, Vegeta felt his confidence draining even more. And his sense of purpose fading away with it. He knew that he was the strongest being alive, and it frustrated him to no end that Kakarot had surpassed him by becoming a Super Saiyan. If Vegeta could _just_ find the key to becoming one, too... He would once again have the means to assert his dominance. He would be able to prove to everyone who the strongest warrior truly was. After everything he had been through, he deserved it. Such status was rightfully his...

… If he could _just find the key…_

It was the only goal that Vegeta had left. Yet, the more energy he put towards achieving that goal, the farther away it felt.

The deep feeling in his stomach returning, the fallen saiyan prince picked up a small rock and tossed it down the side of the mountain. He watched as it went, hardly making any sound as it disappeared from sight. _What purpose did he have with seemingly no goals, and nowhere to go_?

_What point would there be to anything?_


	20. Taken for Granted

* * *

 

"Thanks for the grub, Mrs. B.!" Yamcha said, pushing himself back from the table in his seat. He patted his stomach affectionately, smacking his lips for effect.

"Oh, I'm glad ya liked it! It's been awhile since I've seen ya! You should come by more often!" Mrs. Briefs replied. Yamcha let out a tired groan and outstretched his arms. "Well, now that Vegeta's not around, I'm sure you'll be seeing a _lot_ more of me again!"

Rolling her eyes, Bulma stifled a gag as she turned away. While it had pissed her off when Yamcha was going on about Vegeta, his words had been sinking in regardless. All throughtout their meal she just couldn't keep her mind from wandering, replaying King Kai's ominous warning about super saiyans over in her head. They seemed to fit so perfectly with her insecurities, prodding her with the paranoid worry that the saiyan was forgetting about her with each passing day.

Even after the meal, as she watched Yamcha go through his belongings in her room, Bulma's thoughts were still on the man that was light-years away. ' _I really hope Yamcha's wrong about Vegeta...'_ She thought, as the Z-Fighter pretended he didn't know where the bikini magazine had come from. She had originally been planning to go off on him for being _so slimy_ , but instead she was too distracted with her own anxious mind. _'I hope he doesn't forget me when he reaches Super Saiyan...'_ She thought, pursing a lip. _'…If he hasn't, already...'_

"Well, I've gotta run!" Yamcha announced, lifting up his box of items. The awkward silence between them had been so blatant, especially in the last twenty minutes. He figured he'd done his job in planting Bulma with the seeds of doubt, and yet he found that he didn't enjoy watching her worries take over. He couldn't wait to quickly remove himself from that situation!

"Where are you off to?" Bulma tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. She was leaning against the door frame, watching the man with half-interest. He turned to her and grinned. "I've got a date tonight, and I'd better get ready!"

"Oh, I see…" Bulma inspected her nails to emphasize how uninterested she was, yet his words stung slightly. A _date?_ Was it with that same blondie he'd been seeing before, or was it a new girl? "Well, have fun with that."

The Z-Fighter's eyes seemed to lose some of their spark. He sighed, looking down at the box he was holding. He had been hoping for _some type_ of reaction, and the lack of one seemed to confirm the finality of their breakup. Even after Vegeta had so blatantly used this girl, she still seemed to prefer that _sleaze-ball_ over him!

Bulma stepped out of the doorway to make room for Yamcha to walk through it. "Feel free to come by any time," She sang, knowing fully well that he was not going to take her up on that fake offer. "Enjoy your _date."_

Yamcha sighed again, stepping out into the hall with little enthusiasm. As he passed he couldn't help but to look up at her, and his eyes seemed to be pleading.

"Are you alright?" The Bluehead asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Well, it's just that… see, B, I'm not _really_ going on a date…" The Z-Fighter adjusted the box in his arms. "I just wanted to see how you'd react."

"I know you did." She scowled, which was a lie. She really had assumed he'd found some girl to move on to. Truth be told, the fact that he was admitting this to her was both surprising and annoying at the same time! How pathetic! "Did you really think I'd be jealous?"

Yamcha shrugged. He seemed to be struggling to with his emotions, trying to decide on what to say. "I just… I just _can't_ believe you chose _him_ over _me!"_ He growled, breaking eye contact. "I never treated you _that_ bad…"

"You're joking, right?" Bulma crossed her arms. In an instant she was furious. There was quite a long list of things Yamcha had done during their relationship that she could easily begin reciting, but she also didn't see much of a point to it. All Yamcha ever did was twist things to make it all seen like it was her fault, and they were broken up now! Why would she care anymore?

With another large sigh Yamcha turned, making him way for the stairs. "He's not coming back, you know." He grumbled as he went, the items in the box churning loudly with each step he took. "I thought you'd be smart enough to see that…"

Those words hit her like a hot knife, and she eyed her bed as she listened to the Z-Fighter's car starting up downstairs. Vegeta had promised he'd return, but the saiyan had been gone long enough to allow Bulma's confidence in his honesty to start to fade.

What if he really didn't come back?

…What if he had become a Super Saiyan and forgot about her, just as Yamcha said?

She made her way to her bed, sighing sadly as she took a seat. She slowly pulled her sweatshirt up, revealing the bump that was bulging out from her torso. A hand traced over it carefully, delicate fingertips protecting the life within. "I wonder where he is," Bulma whispered.

_Did he think of her as often as she thought of him?_

Surely he hadn't forgotten about her! Yamcha was an idiot, after all! There was no way that he was actually right with this… was there?

There had been many occasions that left Bulma tempted to contact Vegeta. She had access to the phone system on the ship, and speaking to him was only the push of a button away. Yet, up until this point, she had always fought those urges. He had demanded to be able to train in peace, hadn't he? And Vegeta _had_ vowed that he'd return, after all! He was tough and arrogant, and it wasn't like him to make such promises unless he meant them. But she was tired of waiting. She was emotional enough as it was, and Yamcha had done a good job at exploiting those fears. In that moment she wished for nothing more than a little bit of reassurance. To hear his voice - to hear him make that promise once again…

 _'I've got to remain strong.'_ Bulma thought, closing her eyes. She conjured the image of his sweating face, determination flaring from his eyes. She imagined how hard he must have been working during his time away! He was focused enough that she had no doubts he was making astounding progress! But it was all becoming too much to take. The distance was getting to her, the lack of communications - the _loneliness!_ It was all becoming too much to take! And as much as she tried to understand Vegeta's situation and respect his wishes, she just couldn't stand for him to be gone.

Not when she was pregnant. Not at a time like this!

_He hadn't even tried to call.._

Bulma felt a tear fall from her cheek. It splashed onto the hand she had been using to coax her sore stomach. It was with that single teardrop, splattered across her skin, that something struck Bulma. She sat up straighter, suddenly feeling indignant. Why _should_ she feel like this? Why _should_ she be so torn up about him when he hadn't even bothered to reach out to her?

He had already missed out on so much during his time away! She'd never asked for this – she'd never asked to be pregnant and alone! Bulma turned to the phone system beside her, making a suden decision. She needed to hear his voice. She _deserved_ it! She had tried to be more than understanding about his journey into space, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of giving her a quick update every now and then!

What kind of relationship _was_ this if he couldn't even give her occasional updates?

And with that thought, she couldn't help but gulp. _Was this_ even a relationship at _all_? That was another question altogether. He had been so tender and caring with her that night before he left, but he'd been giving her mixed signals up until then. One moment he seemed to be absolutely affectionate, and the next he was closing himself off and doing all he could to push her away.

_What the hell **were** they?_

"That's it!" She snapped, clicking on the monitor of her phone. She was going to find out where they stood – for once and for all. If he wanted _anything_ to do with her and her unborn child, he was going to have to be honest about this. And if not, she'd save herself the prolonged heartache and wash her hands of him then and there. All she knew was that something had to change. She couldn't keep going on with only her mind in this state!

Her heart was pounding with anxiety as she gripped the phone receiver, eying her reflection in the monitor. How lonely she had been feeling - how desperate she was to have some sense of unity. She was exhausted from trying to be patient. And yet, she had a sinking feeling of how this conversation was going to go. Gulping, she eyed the orange button on the control panel. She took in a deep breath, closing her eyes as she clicked it. "Here goes nothing…"

The line buzzed as it connected with Vegeta's ship. She then heard clicks as the phone rang on his side.

 _'Please answer,'_ Bulma thought, her heart still pounding as she grit her teeth.

* * *

Vegeta let out a loud yell. He had just fired a blast at the wall of his ship, and he made to dodge as it bounced back at him. The gravity was set to 450, and he had just finished his warm up, transitioning into the most focused portion of his workout. He was in " _the zone"_ , thoughtlessly countering his own attacks and bouncing about the ship as he fired more shots at himself. Outside an electrical storm was taking place, and the feeling of watching lightning bolts fly across the sky had done nothing less that inspire the storm that was raging within. It had been so long since he felt like this – so long since he'd been able to truly clear his mind.

And that was just the problem. He had so much trouble in getting his mind to stop racing. For the past several months he'd hardly even gotten sleep, and he was getting fed up. He had hoped it would get better after he removed himself from that _Woman's_ house, and it to an extent it had. The more time he spent away from her, the less she intruded his thoughts. Yet as soon as he let his guard down she was there again, her deep blue eyes smiling at him, forever burned into his memory.

 _And the emotion._ That sense of need, of dread, of jealousy, of desire. The feelings he encountered when he had been around her had only seemed to magnify with her absence. But it _had_ slowly been getting better.

In fact, it was _finally_ , on this dead planet, that he'd been able to achieve his absolute meditation. He'd been able to _completely_ clear his brain of _her._

So perhaps it was because of these reasons that he was instantly pissed when he heard a ringing that buzzed through his ears. Cursing, Vegeta looked up at the ship's screen to see that word stamped across it – _Bulma._

It was in that moment that one of the blasts Vegeta had thrown bounced off a wall and came into direct contact with him, swooping him off his feet with a bone-shaking rattle. Cursing as loud as he could muster, Vegeta pulled himself back up to his feet. "What is she doing?!" He yelled, cursing once more as he clicked off the gravity machine. The phone continued to ring, and for a few moments Vegeta considered ignoring the call altogether. His irritation was growing with each second.

**_Just_ ** _when he was actually starting to make progress - she had to disturb it!_

Yet something inside prevented him from ignoring her. She was calling _him._ And so, with a growl, Vegeta pressed an orange button to accept the call. He'd been prepared to hear what she had to say and deflect any attempts she made at getting him to talk, but he hadn't been prepared for what came.

_Her face._

Those features, soft and graceful. It was dark where she was, so he couldn't completely make out her expression. But he could see those eyes.

_Those deep blue eyes…_

Suddenly Vegeta felt a lump in his throat threatening to rise as he watched her. Here was that _morbid_ feeling again – that unpleasant sensation forming in his chest. The turning of his stomach. She'd always had a way of doing this to him if he was caught off guard, and perhaps it really _had_ been a long time since he'd seen her! It almost felt as if he were looking at her for the first time, completely astounded by her shaking lips…

How long would it take for him to clear his mind of her _now?_ Suddenly he was even more enraged. It seemed that no matter what he did, he just couldn't escape her! _Why_ , oh _why,_ did she _have_ to call now?!

.

He was watching her, his expression emotionless. He didn't even bother to greet her when he accepted the call – he only stared. She watched him back, her breath fluttering to be looking into his dark eyes once again. After all the time she'd spent thinking of him and wondering how he'd been, they were now looking right at each other, and he didn't even seem pleased. In fact, he seemed to be thinking deeply of something. And she recognized this expression of his to be one he made when he was fighting through an internal struggle.

"Vegeta?" Her voice came out breathless, a pit forming inside. She felt almost nauseous from the anticipation, a mix of hopefulness yet fear of the truth. When no response was made on his part, she repeated herself. "Vegeta..."

"What is it?" That gruff, curt response. It was just like him, and yet this wasn't what she had wanted at all. Bulma sucked in her lip, eyes widening. It was so typical of him to be short with her, but this time was different. They hadn't even spoken in months! If he really cared for her, then shouldn't he be at least somewhat pleased to see her?! The Bluehead's mouth was suddenly dry, her breath quickening. "What do you mean?" She gulped, giving him a chance to make things right.

"Well, I'm trying to concentrate right now!" He snapped back.

That was it. _That_ was all she needed.

"What the hell is your problem?!" Bulma replied, trying desperately to ward off the tears that had suddenly formed in her eyes. "It's been so long! I've given you all the time in the world to concentrate! And this is how you're going to act towards me?!"

"I _told you_ that I would return to Earth when my training was complete! I expect to be given the time to work alone in _peace!_ "

Damn. Those tears! Those _damned_ tears! The last thing she wanted to do was give him the dignity of knowing that he'd made her cry! Bulma couldn't even decide whether she felt more angry or heart broken in that moment – _why_ did there have to be tears on top of it all? She was sure her cheeks were turning red with heat as her mind flared. _This_ had been it - the truth she had been seeking. At least she didn't have to live in wonder anymor _e._ He really hadn't missed her at all.

"Oh? If that's how you feel, then go ahead!" Bulma's voice began to crack. "Be alone! Don't concern yourself with me! Do whatever you want! **_Alone!_** Just _don't expect_ to come flying back to me when it's finally convenient for you!" She took a deep breath, feeling even worse to see that Vegeta's expression wasn't changing in the slightest. He wasn't even trying to interject! "I've told you before! I _deserve_ more respect than what you give me! I've done so much for you, I've _put up_ with so much! I just..." The more Bulma spoke, the more breathless and enraged she became. It was all becoming too overwhelming, and that straight face of his told her he didn't even care. " _Ugh_! You're such a _jerk_! Goodbye, Vegeta! I won't be waiting for you to come back - do whatever you fucking want! Have fun _being alone_!"

And with that, Bulma clicked off her phone. She did it with such force that her hand was stinging, the tears streaming down her cheeks as she let out a shrill scream. As a pregnant woman she had a tendency to feel shortness of breath, and this tirade had left her gasping for air. She fell back, sinking into bed, waiting for the phone to ring. Perhaps he would call her back after realizing how upset he'd made her. _Surely_ he was decent enough for _that!_

For 10 minutes Bulma stayed in bed. She didn't completely expect Vegeta to try to call her back, to apologize and promise to make things right. It wasn't like him. And yet she had waited anyway, wanting to give him that opportunity to step up and be the man she needed him to be. As each minute passed without so much as a buzz on the monitor, the Bluehead felt even worse. She imagined him shrugging off what she'd yelled, mindlessly returning to his gravity machine. He was probably happy that the interruption had ended! He didn't care at all! With each second her heart felt a little more heavy, her vision becoming a little more blurry, and her breath growing a bit more unsteady.

 _'He never really cared.'_ Bulma thought with a sniffle, furiously wiping at the tears in her eyes before any more of them had a chance to fall. If there was ever a crucial time for Vegeta to drop his ego and show tenderness towards her, this was it. She really _needed_ him at that moment, and he just _wasn't_ going to be there. There was no doubt in her mind that Vegeta knew it, too. He knew she needed him, and he just wasn't going to step up. Her mind drifted back to the last night they had spent together. The care in his eyes and his touch, the way he spoke to her with complete adoration.

 _How could he act in such a loving way, and then so easily treat her like this?_ It all must have been a façade! Everyone had been right about him, hadn't they? Was she really _that_ much of a fool? Bulma let out a choke and grabbed a pillow. She buried her face into it, letting out a weak whimper. There was no doubt that this would be the start to what would become a long night of sobbing

* * *

" _Damnit_!" Vegeta yelled, punching the wall beside the phone. All of the emotion that he had been trying so _hard_ to repress was flooding back to him at full speed now. Everything all at once – his brain quivering as he fought to maintain control. _Why did she have to do that?_

 _She should know by now that_ the sure way to piss off a saiyan was to interrupt their training. It didn't matter that he'd been struggling to clear his mind up until that point - breaking a Saiyan's concentration was one of the certain things that everyone knew not to do if they didn't want to encounter the consequential wrath! Pure angst was brewing inside, Vegeta sending another punch into the wall with his other fist. He shouldn't have snapped at her like that, but it'd been too frutrating to get a grip in the moment. How hard it was to control his thoughts when it came to her, how much he struggled with his urges. The more her words sank in, the worse he felt.

This was _not_ good.

She had sounded so upset when she hung up, and Vegeta had no doubt about it. This reminded him of how she'd yelled at Yamcha the last time they'd had a fight. The tone in her voice filled with such angry pain, the promise that he would spend the rest of his time _alone._ His esophagus was starting to tighten as he grit his teeth.

He had just _severely_ fucked up.

The memories he'd been trying so hard to forget were all flooding back now. The feel of her touch, the sensation of her smell. That attitude of hers that blended so strikingly well with those understanding eyes... She had been the first person since the fall of the saiyans to look at him the way she did, to speak to him and treat him with such a witty manner. She had taken care of his needs as he had asked, and yet she didn't do it with cowardice or grovel. She didn't act as if he were a commander in uniform, barking fear into her. It was more than that.

She treated him as an _equal_.

As much as she gave, she expected to receive in return. It never mattered that he had such an obvious superior power. She held him accountable! Yet she had a way of being so… _soft_ about it all…

How understood she made him feel. It was as if she were the only person that he felt comfortable enough around to know that she was always going to be there, _unconditionally_. No matter how much shit they gave each other, she'd _always_ be there… Perhaps he had grown to expect it too much. Perhaps he had unintentionally taken her for granted.

 _Now he had lost it_. He could _feel_ it.

He should have known better by the tone of her voice when she had called his name. She had needed him this time. She needed him to be the one to _give_ rather than receive, and he hadn't done it. This time he had _really_ screwed things up.

Vegeta was cursing himself, his hands balled into fists, feeling absolutely _torn._ All he wanted to do was ignore the situation and return to his training. A year ago he would have found it _so easy_ to do this! But now he was struggling with what he _wanted_ to do, and what he felt that he _should_ do. Vegeta knew that he _should_ call her back and try to make amends. _But what would he even say?_

Making amends was something that went against Vegeta's nature. He had never done it before. Not even when Frieza was slicing into his skin in a game of torture did Vegeta ever admit to any wrongdoing!

What a foreign concept it all was!

He needed to call her back. Even if he didn't say anything, he needed to at least make _that_ gesture. Vegeta was turning towards the phone, readying himself to commence the call, when he felt a sudden jerk of his ship. He had been so distracted that it took him off his feet, his body slamming into the hard tile below.

"What the hell!" He looked up, surveying his surroundings to understand what had just happened. He was pretty sure that something had just slammed into the side of the spaceship. His eyes darted to the large window at the front, and his eyes widened in shock. It was then that he saw it. A meteor shower was taking place outside, and Vegeta watched as hundreds of giant rocks flew straight for him.


	21. I Don't Care

* * *

 

"AUGH!"

Vegeta maneuvered to the right, narrowly dodging a meteor as it plummeted past him. He held his palm out behind to shoot a blast at it, listening as it exploded meters away. The saiyan was hovering in the sky of the dead planet, trying to protect his ship from being destroyed by the falling meteors that were showering his head.

So far he had been successful at preventing any more of the flying rocks from colliding with the ship, although there had been way too many close calls. ' _Dammit! This shouldn't be a challenge to me!'_ Vegeta thought, cursing himself for pushing his body so hard during the training session he'd just had. Sweat glistening from his forehead, his arms were still shaking from the strain that 450 times gravity put on his muscles. Vegeta shot at two meteors that were coming at him, but as a result he was unable to dodge one that collided with him from the side. The rock slammed against the saiyan's torso, knocking the spit out of him as he choked back his reaction.

"Damn it!" He coughed with a growl, starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. He shouldn't be having this much trouble in the first place, but there were so many rocks coming at him! "Damn it! Damn you **_all_** _!_ "

Down below, on the surface of the planet, stood Vegeta's ship – complete with the Capsule Corp logo on its side. A silence had befallen its interior, everything left as it had been when the meteor shower had started. On the floor was a glass of water Vegeta had been drinking, knocked on its side at the same time that the saiyan had been thrown down from the initial hit. A few meters away was the ship's monitor, still turned on after the call with Bulma…

..

Back on Earth it was nearly midnight, and Bulma reclined against her headboard with a bowl of ice cream by her side. She had spent an hour yelling obscenities through her tears before deciding that she needed to feed herself and her unborn baby. ' _Even if I am stressed, I need to eat!_ ' She had thought, gulping down a glass of herbal tea.

It was odd - despite how angry she was with him, all she wanted to do in that moment was reach out to Vegeta. This was such a stark contrast to the fights she'd had with Yamcha, when it had been easy to give the silent treatment until he realized what he'd done wrong. With Vegeta, there was a hopeful voice in her head that told her to give him a call and try to work things out. She couldn't help but think that if they could just work through his issues with expressing himself, they'd be able to sort everything out and move on. ' _Just give him a chance!_ ' The voice urged when Bulma had been half-way through her bowl of dessert. Confused, angry, and emotional, the Bluehead began to feel that she didn't care to fight it anymore. If her instinct was telling her to call him, then maybe she really should. She wiped back the tears on her cheeks and made for the phone system, but as she held a finger up to initiate the call her eyes widened.

 _'Why am I doing this?_ ' She thought, mouth dropping open. No! He was the one who had been such a jerk to _her! **He**_ needed to be the one to apologize! She hadn't done anything wrong! Shaking her head with determination, the Bluehead backed away from the phone and popped another spoonful of dessert into her mouth defiantly. Despite her efforts, the voice returned…

_'He's doesn't **understand** – he's not used to having these types of conversations! And he too proud to try to call, if I don't do it we'll never talk again!'_

Bulma dropped her spoon back into the bowl and looked at the phone. She eyed the big orange square - just a simple click of it would connect her with his ship. _With him_. Her mind glossed back to a few hours prior, when he had rudely snapped at her for even trying to communicate with him in the first place. ' _No!'_ She thought again. _'_ H _e's a total jerk who only cares about himself!'_ "No!" She yelled, wiping tears from her cheeks once more. It was as if her mind was _trying_ to drive her crazy, and she was getting tired of it! "If he really felt bad he would call me himself! Just because the ice cream is making me feel a little better doesn't mean what he did was okay by any means!"

It was then that Bulma went back at her bowl with full force, eagerly swallowing the rest of it down as she tried desperately to rid him from her mind. _He hadn't even **attempted** to call, himself!_ Perhaps _Yamcha was right, after all. Perhaps he already **had** become a Super Saiyan, and he just didn't give a damn anymore! _

Little did Bulma know that even if she _had_ tried to call Vegeta, he wouldn't have answered. The screen would have buzzed, the sound would have rang, but there was nobody available to receive it.

Little did Bulma know that Vegeta was busy trying to protect his only source of transportation so that he could ever return back to Earth.

_Back to her._

..

Vegeta was breathless now, feeling weaker by the second. There seemed to be no end to the giant balls of rock that were coming at him. It seemed that with each meteor he destroyed, at least 2 seemed to take its place. He was tired and frustrated, and with each passing minute he was starting to feel more useless, and more defeated.

 _'All of this training... all of this time... to find difficulty in stopping some measly rocks!'_ Vegeta thought bitterly, a vein in his forehead start to bulge. _'What has training accomplished me? If I hadn't been training so hard in the first place, I'd have energy to destroy them all!'_ He let out a groan, firing at a few meteors he could see in the distance. Perhaps he was imagining things, but the shower finally seemed to be clearing up. It was a slow progress, but he was sure of it. Perhaps he would be alright after all – _if_ he could continue to hold himself up.

And, with how quickly his energy was draining, that was a **big** _if._

The saiyan took the moment to catch his breath _._ His body bent forward, sweat blurring his view, he let in a deep inhale and tried to force himself to focus. ' _How can I be this vulnerable?'_ He thought, shaking his head. As he was bent forward he took note of a large shadow casting over his form. His eyes widened, registering just how big this shadow really was…

The saiyan straightened back up, looking ahead to see it with his own eyes, and his mouth dropped open. _'No!'_ He thought. It couldn't be!

Straight ahead was the largest meteor he had ever seen. It was _at least_ twice the size of his spaceship, energy radiating from its core as it flew right at him. Vegeta could only think of it as the _God_ of _all_ meteors, and he watched in horror as it drew closer and closer. ' _There's no way!'_ He thought, panic shooting through his core. This was exactly how he felt when he'd realized he was going to die at the hands of Frieza. It was nothing short of the realization that all was lost, and no matter how hard he fought he'd never be capable of standing a chance. _'I'm too weak!'_ He thought, raising his palms regardless. He knew it would do no good. He could never summon the ki it would require to even dent this rock, but with the little ability he had left he had to at least try.

The yellow beam ejected from his hand, flying at the giant ball of rock and disappearing into its surface. It hadn't even slowed the damned thing!

' _Shit.'_ Was all that the saiyan could think as he raised his arms to shield his face. He closed his eyes, preparing for the impending crash that would be coming at any second.

He would have let out a yell of pain when it collided with his body, but his lungs were rendered airless before he had a chance. Vision fading as he plummeted down into the dead ground below, his form dented the crust as he sank into it.

..

Bulma's room was dark, and she lay in bed watching the moon that was shining in through her window. She had always enjoyed watching the moon, but ever since becoming pregnant it had seemed to have much more of an impact on her. How hypnotic it was, her eyes glazing of the curves of the crescent form, which was floating in the sky like an incomplete marble. Perhaps it was the saiyan DNA that was forming a life inside of her that attracted her to it so strongly. Perhaps it was her own predisposed interest with space travel. But as Bulma lay and watched, her cheeks swollen from her stress of the night, she started to feel as if a serene blanket had been placed over her.

Her fingertips slowly caressing her stomach, soothing the baby inside as she watched dark clouds flow past the moon, she listened to the silence of the sleeping house. There was no chaotic sounds to distract her – it was just her, her unborn child, and the natural light that offered comfort all the way from space.

She was suddenly feeling stronger than she had all day.

The voice had changed within. Now, instead of telling her she needed to put in a greater effort, it was whispering to her that everything was going to be okay. And this was something she could agree with. ' _I'm not going to let Vegeta ruin this for me.'_ She thought, fingers still tracing over her small protruding belly. _'I've got to be calm and try to make the best of everything… for my baby.'_

* * *

There was no wind on the dead planet to even blow the dust off Vegeta's body.

He had only been unconscious for a few seconds, and he now lay, embedded into the dirt and crumbles of the planet's crust. Painful grunts escaping his lips every few seconds, the saiyan was on his stomach, a weak hand grasping at the soil below.

How pathetic, pained, and worn out he felt.

' _I... I can't win.'_ He thought, opening his eyes to look drearily at the ground ahead. Squeezing a handful of dirt into his palm, he watched as it escaped through the cracks between his fingers. "D...Damn it all," He breathed, placing his hands at either side of his body and summoning his remaining strength to push himself up off the ground.

 _Where had any of his training gotten him?_ Vegeta let out a cough. It was strange – it felt as if every bone in his body had broken upon contact with the meteor, and yet he knew he would have been able to move if he only had the energy. ' _It's... not... fair...'_ He thought, listening to the flying rocks slamming into the ground around him. A meteor crashed into the crust, and it didn't land too far from his head. He closed his eyes, fighting to steady his trembling muscles as he struggled to push himself up further. On his hands and knees now, his mind began to drift over everything that had happened throughout his life.

He'd been entitled to his planet- to leading an entire race of people. And yet he'd been _sacrificed_ by his own father instead.

Losing his home planet.

Struggling to overpower Frieza, and _failing_.

Kakarot's – the _bastard!_

… _Bulma_.

The saiyan slammed a fist down onto the ground below, losing all ability to withhold his own emotions any longer. A single tear dropping from his eye, the saiyan let out a gutteral yell. He just couldn't take it anymore! If somebody had asked him to describe how he felt in one word, all he'd be able to say is _grief._

He had lost everything in his life that he cared about. He had lost his pride, his ability to trust, his purpose, his parents, his home... And, just when he started to realize that the void was slowly being filled, and he was learning to not linger on the woes of his past, he'd lost the one thing that had somehow worked to heal him so much. He had lost _Bulma_.

_Bulma..._

The word itself brought such a deep pain to him that he let out another cough at the thought. He didn't feel as if he had accomplished anything in his months of training, but in the process he had managed to gain some type of alternative home. It wasn't what he'd asked for, and it hadn't been to his consent. A place to live. People that seemed to care about him for no _damned_ good reason, and yet they doted on him as if he was something more than a recurring failure. And, just as he'd gained this, his training had also taken it away.

_He had lost the most special gem of all._

Those large blue eyes flashed in his memory. How warm she felt during their encounters together. How truly happy she always seemed under his frame, though he'd never been able to admit before how much he enjoyed to see her like that. She had been _his._ _His Bulma_. He hadn't asked for her – he'd tried to even push her away! Yet she had given herself to him, and now she was gone.

 _If it hadn't been for his pride, he probably wouldn't have lost her. It was all because of that damn pride_!

Vegeta felt the ground shake as a meteor slammed into it, even closer than the last. This time he knew it would have hit him if its course had been different by a few centimeters.

' _This is how I'm going to die.'_ He thought, letting out a wet cough. He was going to perish, by hand of _a few puny rocks._ The saiyan felt so pathetic that he nearly laughed, still holding himself up with his arms. Nobody would know what became of the man who should have been a celebrated ruler of an ancient race. Not even Bulma would know - but it wasn't as if she even cared at this point.

"Well, if that's how it's going to be then fine!" He growled. Taking in a deep breath, the saiyan opened his mouth as another wave of emotion overcame him. "I don't care!" He yelled, shaking his head as more tears threatened his shameful eyes. "I don't care about anything **ANYMORE**!"

As soon as Vegeta said it, he knew it was true.

He had truly given up. Given up on everything. There was nothing left for him to fight for. It seemed he had been practically born with nothing, and now he was going to die without anything in return. Not even _her._

"I'm giving up, you hear me?" He yelled, as if Kami himself could take note of his calls. "I don't care about being a saiyan! I don't care about being strong! I don't care about **anything** at _all_!" Somehow, in yelling this, he was feeling well enough to push himself to his feet, his body tightening from the strain. It was as if this announcement actually made him stronger – as if yelling had relieved himself of the negative thoughts that had been plaguing him since he was a young child. "I'm just a worthless piece of scum on this pathetic speck of dirt! You hear me?! I'm **nothing**!" He was living every word he spoke, truth dripping from each word. "Death can take me now! I DON'T CARE!"

He suddenly felt a strange energy take over his body.

It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

As if his body was draining of its power and refilling at the same time. Purging. Replenishing. It wasn't exactly a pleasant feeling - it was a _force_. As if some omnipresent being was viciously drinking the very life from within him, while simultaneously pumping it with a new one. A foreign ki.

It was _painful._

He took in a breath, feeling the muscles in his chest pulsating from the process as he shook. His feet pressing hard into the ground, hands balled in fists, jaw feeling as if it would unhinge at any moment. It took all that he had to hold himself up against the pressure, his legs slightly bent at the knees to give himself more leverage. Vegeta let out a loud scream, feeling that he'd implode if he didn't. It was as if his guts were going to be pulled out from within from the shaking his core.

_What... What was this?!_

His yell lingered. He could hear it echoing around him, drifting away, and yet he continued to call out to Kami as if he would never run out of breath.

And, suddenly, it _changed._

Whatever was happening to his body suddenly felt right. Something was awakening from deep inside – a creature that had been dormant his entire life. This was a part of him - a part that he had never even _known_ before. Yet he knew it was the most authentic side of his being that he could ever release. Vegeta could feel every hair on his body standing up from the skin. He could feel his vision growing stronger, even as he continued to yell.

He was becoming the _perfect_ form of himself.

This was unlike anything he could ever recall. It was as if he were discovering water after living a life of thirst. As if he were still laying with Bulma in her room, discovering how it felt to know her body for the first time all over again. Plummeting into a regeneration tank just before taking his last breath of life.

…It was even greater than the first breath he had taken after being wished back after dying…

Vegeta was enjoying this, and he he didn't even attempt to understand what was happening to him. It was _right,_ and that was all he needed to feel. It wasn't until it was over that he began to realize what had occurred. After the sparks of energy stopped flaring, after his soul had ceased its purging, Vegeta stood strong. He felt as if his skin itself was glowing, and he had no doubt about it.

Acting on a new refined instinct, he flew back to the air above his ship. Letting out a primal yell, just as he had a few moments earlier, he outstretched his arms. From his figure erupted a golden energy, which swept across the sky and disintegrated each remaining meteor into a dust. For a moment the saiyan was blinded, stunned by his own power.

His chest was heaving, his blue eyes glowing across the world below him.

 _'Super.'_ He thought, a grin stretching across his face.

_'I.. am... Super.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I will post today. 
> 
> We are now more than half-way through the story! 
> 
> I'm pretty sure this marks a whopping five chapters that I was able to proof-read and post in one day! Wow! I hope you enjoyed reading all of the recent updates! :)


	22. In 5 Weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who continues to read and support! I can't believe I've hit the milestone for 100 kudos! I never imagined such a thing! Thank you so much!
> 
> I meant to post this chapter about 12 hours ago, but the servers were down! Did any of you guys notice that? They were down for awhile. I have to say, I had a lot of fun reading AO3's twitter updates. They were hilarious! This website is amazing, and I wish I had discovered it a lot sooner! :)

* * *

Bulma groaned, lifting a laundry hamper up from the floor of the utility room. She was now about 20 weeks pregnant, her stomach being large enough to cause cramping in her lower back when she distributed her weight the wrong way. She hadn't heard from Vegeta since she had hung up on him - 5 weeks earlier. It had been quite difficult for the first couple of days. She had been tempted several times to call him back and demand an apology with an explanation. But she had managed to stand ground and keep her distance, and so she hadn't reached out. As more days passed and there was no word from Vegeta, her heartbreak slowly began to shift to a more definite anger.

She had been keeping herself busy with housework, with lab work, and with planning her baby's nursery. Yamcha had even started spending more time at the Briefs residence, claiming he needed a place to train. Of course Bulma allowed him to, and on several occasions had sat in the yard to watch him do so. In contrast to how Vegeta had conducted his training, the Z-Fighter's sessions were amusing! ' _It looks more like the robots are the ones training Yamcha_ ' Bulma thought, watching as he struggled through his attempts to dodge the training robots that she recreated using the blueprints originally conducted for the saiyan prince himself.

On this day in particular, Bulma was doing laundry, and she carried the hamper upstairs and into her room. She had just set the basket down and was about to click on her radio when the phone suddenly began to ring. The abrupt sound made her jump, and when she settled back onto the ground she groaned. Why were phones so startling? She was pregnant – she didn't need to get so riled up! Taking a deep breath as she clicked the button to accept the call, Bulma smoothed her hair back. "Hello?"

"Hello, woman."

Vegeta had not initiated a video call, so she could only hear his voice as he spoke. The Bluehead's eyes widened, taken completely by surprise that he was actually _calling!_ Heat rose to her cheeks, and she suddenly felt light headed. Despite how angry she was at him, she still cared about him. Perhaps she would _always_ care about Vegeta, and hearing his voice on the line was so unexpected that for a moment she wondered if it were her imagination. Bulma had decided weeks before that she was going to give him a big lecture as soon as she got a chance to. Yet the phone call itself was such a surprise, and she found that she really wasn't in the mood to yell. She also didn't think, not even for a second, that he was calling _just_ to speak to her. No, it was so out of his character to contact her. There was a reason for this. She decided she'd wait until the next time she _saw_ him to chew him out. For now, she'd listen to what he needed to say.

"Vegeta." Bulma replied with as much monotone as she could muster. To her chagrin the feelings were all coming back, and the last thing she wanted was to become invested. It was frustrating that she'd worked so hard to move her mind away from him, and yet now every affectionate emotion was swarming back into her core just from the sound of his voice.

On the other end of the line, Vegeta was taken aback by her tone. He wasn't used to being spoken to in this way - not by _her_! He'd expected her to immediately start yelling at him, to at least show some type of residual emotion from their last encounter! Bulma would always either speak to him with enthusiasm and keen interest, or she'd snap at him with anger and frustration. _Never_ had she been so nonchalant! What _was_ this? The saiyan cleared his throat and paused, as if he were thinking of how he wanted to word his next sentence. It was obvious to Bulma that he felt awkward, and she was glad. He deserved it for how he'd treated her. She didn't even bother to break the silence as she listened to his quiet pondering. She wasn't going to try to lighten to situation for him – she had given him _more_ than enough already! He was on his own with this one!

Finally, after several moments of silence, the saiyan spoke. "Look. I'm going to come back."

"Oh?" Bulma tucked a strand of hair behind her ear to hide her reaction, though she knew he couldn't see her. The idea that he was going to return to the safety of Earth was exciting, regardless of how upset she was. Against her will a smile was spreading across her cheeks, though she tried to keep her voice from expressing it.

"Yes. Now listen closely, because I want to use every minute of my journey to train. But I want you to know that I am on my way, and you can expect my arrival in about 5 weeks."

 _5 weeks?_ As quickly as it had come, her elation had dashed away. 5 weeks felt like _forever_ \- especially to a pregnant woman!

"Okay, then." She felt as her elation sank, her smile dropping as she glared at the blank monitor. 5 weeks was longer than a month. At this point the Bluehead was having trouble maintaining her monotone. She'd been through so much during this short phone call! "I don't see why I need to know, but thanks… I guess."

"What are you talking about, _woman_? I know you've been waiting for my return." If Vegeta was trying to come off as unconcerned, he was doing a bad job at it. She could hear the frustration in his voice.

She knew he was trying to get a rise out of her, and Bulma bit her lip to refrain. _The nerve_ of this guy, to treat her how he had and then have the audacity to expect her to act as if nothing had happened at all! _Did he think of her as some type of lost puppy that would follow everything he did_?

Yet what bothered Bulma the most about Vegeta's statement was that, in some ways, it was actually true. She really _had_ been aching to see him again, despite how much of a jerk he could be! Even in that moment she was seething with the disappointment in knowing she'd have to wait another 5 weeks for his arrival, wasn't she? Bulma nearly hated herself for it, but it was true! Narrowing her eyes, she leaned closer to the phone. "I thought _you_ wanted to be alone!" She hissed, dropping her stiff persona.

"Oh, yes. I did request solitude, and you granted me that." Bulma could tell that Vegeta was grinning, no doubt that it was because he'd finally gotten her to break her stone demeanor. He was amused, but he was still speaking with determination. It was obvious that he had no interest in prolonging this conversation, but there was something else in his tone... _What was that she could hear_? "As a result my training has been quite productive. I'm ready to return now."

"Okay." Bulma pursed her lips, trying to sound cold again. _Kami_ , why was it that she couldn't get a grip? Where was her attitude when she needed it?! She began rubbing her stomach to calm her flaring cheeks. This had become a nervous habit of hers. Anytime she felt uneasy or stressed, her hands immediately flew to her belly. It was as if she were apologizing to her baby for putting it through _her own_ unease.

"Anything else we can talk about upon my arrival. I'll be seeing you in 5 weeks." He said.

Yes, she was _sure_ of it now! There really was something else in his voice, but she was having a hard time identifying it. "Okay then. See ya." The Bluehead made to hang up the phone, but just as she was about to press the orange button she heard him again.

"Oh, and one more thing, _Woman_."

Her body tensed, desperate to end the call. She didn't respond, simply waiting for him to continue. She was rather overwhelmed at this point, and she needed to hang up as soon as possible!

"As I've said, I had to be alone to train successfully. I needed to be able to focus. You abided by my request, and you only slipped up once."

"Yes, well, I suppose _everyone_ makes mistakes..." Bulma muttered with a scowl. Vegeta didn't seem to hear. He continued. "I want you to know that your efforts have been acknowledged and are appreciated."

"Huh?" Bulma asked dumbly, her voice becoming softer. Slowly a smile formed at her lips. "Does that mean... Does that mean..." She was grinning now, trying to fight back a laugh. "Vegeta, are you _thanking_ me?" Sure, he had said it like a drill-sergeant, but this was rare!

"You can interpret my words however you'd like." He grunted. "I must go now... I need to resume my training." And with that, Bulma heard a click as Vegeta ended the call.

The Bluehead stepped away from the phone, the smile still strewn across her lips. She was still pissed at him, but that didn't mean she couldn't be amused.

* * *

5 weeks later, almost to the exact day, a shadow descended upon the Briefs residence. There had been a few birds been resting on the roof of that dome-like building. One of the birds, red feathers and giant eyes, squawked, as if to say ' _Hey, isn't that a ship coming right at us?'_ Another bird squawked in agreement, as if the say _'Let's get out of here before we're crushed!'_ And so the feathery creatures, having agreed that they were _indeed_ about to be killed by the giant spaceship, rose into the sky and took off in the opposite direction.

Of course, Vegeta had no idea that he'd just scared the daylight out of some of Earth's more inferior creatures. Even if he had known, he wouldn't have cared. The saiyan sat in the captain's chair, his arms crossed with a look of boredom on his face. He was tired and hungry, and he was ready for a warm meal prepared by the _blonde_ woman.

When the ship touched the ground and its door swung open, Vegeta stepped down. He took in the smell of fresh air, of the grass and the trees. The sunlight hit him in the face and temporarily blinded him as his eyes adjusted to the new lighting. It was all _just_ as he remembered and expected it to be, but there was something missing.

With a scowl, Vegeta crossed his arms. "Hello? Woman!"

There was no reply.

Not a single person was even there to greet him! Muttering curses under his breath, the saiyan began to make his way across the property. He reached the entry to the Briefs residence and grabbed the doorknob. He noticed that it stiffly resisted when he attempted to turn it. "Is this thing stuck?" Vegeta glared at his hand and squeezed the knob tighter. He gave a push, and with a loud crack the door finally swung open. "Stupid thing," He growled, stepping into the kitchen and dropping the doorknob on the tile below. He looked around. There wasn't a person to be seen. No lights were on, and not a sound of life was coming from any part of the house.

He'd expected at least _some_ type of welcoming upon his return! Sure, he had planned to act irritated by the attention, but he had still _expected_ it. Where was his large meal? There was no odor of stew boiling - there wasn't even a life aura that he could sense. Where were the squeals and questions about how his time had gone? He couldn't feel any ki coming from any depth of the house at all. Every member of the Briefs family was gone – _gone,_ during his moment of return, and they were supposed to be anxiously awaiting his arrival!

_He just couldn't believe it!_

.

Vegeta could sense the power levels as they arrived at the house. He had retreated back to his ship to get more training in while he waited, and now he clicked off the gravity machine to make his way back to the ship's door. Ready for a redo of his appearance, the door swung open and Vegeta stepped out. He closed his eyes and cleared his throat, preparing himself for Bulma's greeting.

"Hello, Vegeta! My, you look good! Have you been workin' out?!"

The spiky-haired man opened his eyes at the words and nearly fell back in shock. Mrs. Briefs was standing alone in the yard, beaming from ear-to-ear as she waved enthusiastically. The blonde woman was friendly, but she always made Vegeta feel as if she would swallow his soul if she had the ability. A drop of sweat formed at Vegeta's temple and he regained his posture. "I'm hungry," was all he replied, and Mrs. Briefs giggled. "Well, of course you are! I'll fix somethin' up for ya right away! Come inside!"

Vegeta followed the blonde woman. She pushed the door open and led him into the house. "Mind the door, okay? We left the door locked, but the knob's been ripped right off! It's the strangest thing!"

..

Bulma was upstairs in her room, her back turned to the door. She had only just kicked her shoes off, and she was admiring a picture that had been printed for her at the doctor's office. Beside her was another hamper of laundry that she was procrastinating getting to. Vegeta came down the hall and walked in on her with a huff, eying her rear as he entered the room. She knew he was back on Earth – of course, she had seen the ship in the yard when her family drove up. But she had decided not to give him a big greeting. He would be expecting it, and she didn't want to dignify him like that. The Bluehead listened as he approached and looked over her shoulder at him, a bored expression on her face. "Oh, hey Vegeta."

Vegeta was now visibly annoyed. "Where were you?!" He barked. "I told you to expect me!"

The blue-haired woman turned away from him, advancing towards her desk and setting the image down. Bulma was wearing an orange and blue dress that made no effort to hide her shape. Vegeta watched her rear sway back and forth under the material as she moved. It appeared larger than he remembered. It seemed to bounce more, too... It was almost... _hypnotic_ , and Vegeta had to snap himself out of his state before he forgot to be so angry. "Well, I'm sorry then. I guess I just forgot." Bulma was saying, not sounding apologetic in the least. She was looking down at her desk now, trailing her fingers across its surface.

Vegeta clenched his teeth at her words, balling his right hand into a fist. "What! What do you mean... you _forgot_!?" He snapped. This was so unforeseen that he was struggling to find words. He was the _prince_ of all saiyans, and she _forgot_ about his arrival on Earth?! He wanted to lash out – to yell at the top of his lungs, and yet he just _couldn't_.

"Well, excuse me but I have my own life, ya know!" It was then that Bulma turned to face her love with a stern look, and Vegeta was taken aback by her body once more. For another moment he found himself forgetting his anger as he looked her over, examining her new shape with interest. The woman _definitely_ was bigger than she had before he had left, but he didn't particularly consider it to be a bad thing. The dress that flaunted her rear so proudly was clinging to _all_ of her curves. Her breasts seemed to have grown in size too, and they were pointing right at him like two giant melons that _needed_ to be consumed. Yet what Vegeta found the most interesting _and_ intimidating about Bulma was the large belly that was protruding farther out than the rest of her body! It was perfectly round, but looked firm and strong in its place. Vegeta stared at her stomach with alarm, thinking ' _my son is in there_.'

Bulma had seen Vegeta's eyes running over her body. She placed one hand on her hip, and the other over her bump. "Yes, Vegeta, have a look! Because believe it or not, the whole world doesn't stop revolving as soon as you leave!" She caressed her belly, as if trying to communicate with her baby and say to it ' _There there, this isn't your fault. I'm sorry you have to hear this, but your Dad has some serious ass-kicking coming to him.'_

Vegeta watched the trailing of her hand and he swallowed, determined to stand his ground and assert his position. "I told you my ship was scheduled to arrive, and I expected you to be here."

Turning away again, Bulma made for the laundry hamper that had been waiting for her. The saiyan watched her stomach as she moved, and he noted how far it stuck out from the rest of her body as it swung back.

_How foreign it appeared on her small frame!_

The Bluehead was now hastily folding a shirt, as if to underline her point. "Well, I'm sorry but I had things to do today! I had to go to the doctor, and I can't just drop everything and wait idly for you to come by whenever it benefits you!" She was trying to sound more distracted than angry. This was her own way of asserting dominance. It seemed that it was working…

Vegeta was watching her silently as she focused on her chore. Her face was looking more full than it had the last time he'd seen it. She looked really good to him, and it had been _such_ a long time since they had been in the same room. Somehow, her attitude both enraged him and captivated him, and he was stuck in the middle of two strong emotions.

_She just always seemed to have that effect on him…_

Bulma looked up from the laundry at him, and the two locked eyes. _There really was something different about Vegeta..._ She couldn't quite place her finger on it, but she could hear it in the way he spoke. She could see it in his face. Whatever had happened during his time out in space had changed him, and she couldn't yet tell what exactly it was. However, there was another look in his eyes that she _did_ recognize, and she froze in place. "No." She said softly, her voice sounding forced. She dropped the shirt back into the hamper. "No way, there's _no_ way."

Vegeta was taking a step toward her, and his look of desire was growing stronger as he closed in. Bulma backed away and put both hands out in front of her, as if to build some invisible barrier between the two. "Vegeta, _no_!" She snapped, this time with authority. Although the look in his eyes was awakening a strong need within her own body, she was too angry to allow herself to give in. He didn't _deserve_ it.

At hearing the tone in her voice, the saiyan blinked the lust out of his eyes. "What do you _mean_?" He asked, his breath laced with shock.

Bulma shook her head. "You can't just abandon me for 4 months and then expect everything to be perfect when you come back!" She felt as if she were announcing the color of the sky to him - it was information that he should have already been aware of!

The sentence seemed to frustrate Vegeta, and he sighed. "I'm _trying_ to make things up to you right _now_ , aren't I?!" He asked, his voice raising.

Bulma glared, her own anger rising. "You've got a lot of explaining to do, don't you think?! And what a way to say hello and make up after what a jerk you were, huh?! You just _barged_ in here yelling at me about-!"

"VE-GE-TA! BUL-MA! DIN-NER!" Mrs. Briefs call broke through the room, cutting Bulma off mid-rant. The Bluehead closed her eyes and ran her hand through her hair, taking a deep breath. "Right, I'm too hungry to fight now." She sighed.

Vegeta nodded in silent agreement. She watched him as he turned on his heel and made his way out the door, and once again she found herself thinking with interest.

_There really was something different about him._


	23. Unfortunate Timing

* * *

As usual, Vegeta was quiet and kept to himself while he ate. Bulma hardly paid attention to him, though. She was happy enough talking to her parents. Her indifference bothered the saiyan, especialy since he has been away for _so long,_ but after the fight that had just occurred he was satisfied enough to not have her yelling at him. On top of that, the Blonde-woman kept asking Vegeta intrusive questions. He would have enjoyed it from Bulma, but he didn't particularly want it from _the Blonde one._ Vegeta would grunt his responses to the prying, but she just didn't seem to take the hint, continuing to press him for information about his time in space.

' _Ugh_ ', Vegeta thought, swallowing down a gulp of meat as Mrs. Briefs asked him what kind of socks were best to wear in space. _Couldn't she see that she was of an inferior species?_

After Bulma ran through several plates of food she excused herself, making her way back upstairs. Vegeta couldn't help but follow her once he finished his own meal. He wanted the woman's attention. They'd hardly spoken at all since he'd arrived, and he was eager to try and move past the fight that had occurred while he was still in space. The fact that she was ignoring him was driving him crazy! When he walked into her room she was sitting on her bed and flipping through a magazine, humming out loud.

Feeling relaxed after satisfying her pregnancy cravings, Bulma looked up at the saiyan with a smile. He stood in silence, waiting for a new round of words to start, but they didn't come. She simply watched him, still softly singing, staring at his face. Suddenly she threw her magazine down beside her. "Would you like to see something?" She asked, her face brightening up even more. Her behavior was so _peculiar_. Vegeta raised an eyebrow, not bothering to respond to her question. Yet he didn't turn her down, so Bulma _pulled_ herself up from her seat and made her way across the room. In another time she would have jumped to her feet and raced with excitement, but she was pregnant now. She was sore.

Vegeta watched her hips sway as she walked away, but it was more with confusion than lust. Since his return, she had only shown him either indifference or rage. To be honest, he hadn't even known what to expect upon his arrival. He'd been pretty sure she hated him after the incident on the ship. This sudden enthusiasm seemed suspicious - was it some sort of trap?

"Look," Bulma smiled, finding the item on her desk and turning back to face the saiyan. She held it out as she advanced towards him. When she was within an arm's distance, Vegeta curiously reached out and took it from her. He looked down, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. It was some sort of image. "What is this?" He demanded, trying not to come off as too harsh. Was this another strange Earth tradition, perhaps? The image looked scientific. It was a quite dark, and there was a familiar looking outline sketched across it in grey. Vegeta was taking in the entire picture at once, though. He couldn't decide on where to place his focus, so his eyes simply skimmed over the outline as he continued to study. On the border was the woman's name and some seemingly random numbers printed. He figured that this must have been generated by a computer, but he didn't understand _what_ it meant - or why he should care.

Bulma was smart, to say the least, and this was a trait that Vegeta found incredibly attractive. But he also considered her intellect competition. The Saiyan not only wanted Bulma to think of him as strong, but also as all-knowing. He didn't relish these moments in which he had to basically admit to being clueless. They irritated them.

_Stupid image!_

Not discouraged by his lack of excitement, Bulma smiled even wider and leaned closer to Vegeta. He caught a whiff of _her_ smell and clenched the photo tighter, trying not to get too side-tracked.

"My parents and I went to the doctor earlier - that's where we were when you landed." The Bluehead explained. "This is a scan of my stomach..." She pointed at the grey outline. "...And _that_ ' _s_ our baby." Bulma whispered, her tone softening. Vegeta was surprised at the tenderness in her words, and he glanced at her from the side to see that her eyes were glowing. She was watching the picture, beaming from ear-to-ear, not even sporting a blink to break her concentration of it. He looked back down at the print in his hand, and now that he knew what to look at he could see it too. Yes, there really _was_ what appeared to be the profile of a small person. He could distinctly make out the shape of the head, its nose, and even a small torso.

Bulma leaned even closer to Vegeta, her head brushing against his arm. "See?" She asked, waiting for a response.

Staring at the image uncomfortably, Vegeta didn't know what to say. Somehow, he had felt more of a connection to the child when he had dreamed of it being ripped away from Frieza. _This_ was just a generic picture. He couldn't even see its actual face! To be honest, he hardly felt anything at all. The figure in this image was _just_ a grey blur, and the saiyan prince found himself reluctant to express excitement. Not only did that seem like something a weakling would do, but he _really_ didn't feel too enthused. He didn't want to lie, not to his woman. Yet he also didn't want to disappoint her, so he finally settled with saying "Yes, I can see now."

Bulma seemed satisfied with this. She pointed to another part of the image, at its lower torso. This part just looked like a smudge to Vegeta. "We could see it better during the actual ultrasound, _this_ isn't a good print..." Her soft voice was rising with her own enthusiasm now.

"See _what_?" Vegeta asked, growing slightly impatient for this awkward moment to end. The longer he stared, the more disconnected he felt towards the creature depicted in the sketch. He didn't like it.

Bulma grabbed Vegeta's arm and squeezed it, trying to build suspense.

"We could see that..." She sang slowly, looking up at Vegeta's face to catch his reaction. "...That it is a _boy!_ "

The Bluehead waited for Vegeta to react, but his face didn't change in the slightest as she watched. Slowly her smile dropped, and she loosened her grip on his arm. He turned to her now, noting the sudden change of air. "What's wrong?" He asked.

"You don't care?" Bulma replied, her eyes disheartened.

"Care about what?"

It was at this that Bulma glared. She quickly snatched the print from Vegeta's fingers. "What do you _mean_?! I just told you that we're going to have a little _baby boy_ and you don't even care!"

"Oh," Vegeta said, feeling slightly irritated by her tone with him. "Am I supposed to be shocked? I'm not surprised it's a boy." He shrugged for effect and offered a smirk.

Bulma looked at him, her eyebrows strained. _That was true_. When Vegeta had left to go to space, one of the last things he'd said to her was that she needed to take care of their son. He'd been so sure of it that it even made her feel convinced! Yet she was still been excited by the ultrasound. The scan had confirmed it! Evidently Vegeta had known though - but how? As Bulma pondered on this, her anger began to subside. "I guess you're right," She finally muttered. "But... _how_ did you know?"

Vegeta was still smirking. _Finally_! He was back to feeling in control. Now _she_ was the one asking him for insight. "I'm a prince," He replied. "It's only suitable that my first child is a boy, isn't it?"

Bulma narrowed her eyes at his words. "Oh, and suppose it was a girl?!" She hissed. "That wouldn't have been suitable for you?!"

"I didn't say _that_ , woman." The Saiyan shook his head. "I just said that it made sense for my first child to be a boy. My blood has had a long line of males being the born into it. It seemed a lot more feasible to have a son rather than a daughter."

"Oh," The Bluehead replied sadly, letting herself fall back onto her bed with a grunt of discomfort. "Well, that's a bit disappointing. I wanted you to be excited..." She rubbed her aching stomach, taking a deep breath as her head dropped back.

"I'll be excited when he's old enough to put up a real fight," Vegeta replied. He crossed his arms and began a stroll around Bulma's room, studying the decorations she had hanging on the wall. Framed images of her from different stages of her life. There was even an image similar to the one that she had just showed him.

"Vegeta, it's a baby.. he won't be doing any fighting," Bulma said.

"My son will be a true warrior." This wasn't announced in hostility, it was simply a statement. He glanced over his shoulder at his woman, and he noted the tired expression in her eyes. "It's your duty to make sure our son grows to be as healthy as possible, so he'll be prepared for his training." He turned back to the images he had been examining, and continued his stroll around the room.

Bulma watched the saiyan, thinking again that he seemed different somehow. The way he acted. The way he held his head back. Even the way he spoke was different! It seemed to Bulma as if he were _really_ trying to be civil with her! Something had changed within him while he had been away.

_But what?_

"So, what happened while you were in space?" She finally asked. Vegeta had been standing at a bookcase of hers, pretending to be looking over the different science textbooks that were organized on the top shelf. "What do you mean? I trained." He pulled a book out from the shelf and lazily looked at its cover.

"Is that all?" The Bluehead asked.

"Of course," He responded, flipping the book open to a random page and skimming over it with mock interest.

Bulma was trying to remain distant, to keep herself emotionally unattached. But watching Vegeta stand in front of her and act so casual was messing with her plans. She could feel emotion swelling up, and her hand went to her stomach protectively. "Well, after you were such a _jerk_ when I tried calling you, it took you 5 weeks to bother calling me back!" She said. "You had to wait 5 weeks?!"

Vegeta closed the book and placed it back on the shelf. It was true. After their episode over the ship's phoneline, after Vegeta had found himself transformed into a super saiyan, it really had been 5 weeks before he'd reached out. _For 5 weeks_ Vegeta had found himself in a daze, roaming through the planet and testing his new power. The experiments he had put on his body, experimenting with his ki and new found speed. The strength he felt was unlike anything he could imagine, and for 5 weeks he had lost himself in the pleasure of celebrating. It hadn't seemed like long at all - for all he knew it had only been a few days. Yet 5 weeks _did_ sound about right. He hadn't yet been able to find the words to describe that period of rebirth after his depression. The woman wouldn't understand... Not if he couldn't even explain it to her.

"Well?" Bulma said, interrupting his thoughts. "Waiting 5 weeks to call me, just to say that I needed to wait another 5 weeks for you to come home and have a conversation with me... that isn't fair, you know!"

He turned to his woman now. She was sitting on her bed, her back leaning against the headboard. Her arms were wrapped around that protruding bump, but there was no fire in her eyes. Only sadness. He didn't want to see her like that - not when he knew that her pain was inflicted by him. "A lot of stuff came up when you called... It really wasn't a good time." Vegeta finally said, "At the moment you chose to contact me, the ship was being threatened by a shower of meteors." He began to step towards her now, and she sank deeper into her bed in response. When Vegeta was standing over Bulma he put both of his hands on her shoulders, holding her firmly in place. "The timing was quite unfortunate, but I really _could not_ call."

She found herself unable to look into his eyes. Bulma's face dropped to her stomach, and she fought back the tears that were threatening to break free. She didn't doubt the saiyan's honesty that she could hear in his tone, but she knew there was more to the story than he was telling her.

Vegeta continued. "My training has been quite successful, but I am not yet done. I might not stay here permanently, but until the battle with the androids I will not leave Earth again."

A quivering hand was placed over Vegeta's, and the blue-haired beauty looked up at him now. "Do what you need to do. I don't expect you to stay here… How could I?" Her voice shaking. "You know you'll always have a place here, but things can't be the way they were before you left..."

Vegeta wasn't surprised - he couldn't be. Based on the fight they had on the ship, he'd known he'd lost her. He'd been grieving that loss just before he'd become a super saiyan, hadn't he? Yet, somehow, hearing her words felt like a punch in the stomach as he watched her cry. He couldn't decide whether to feel more guilty or more appalled at her rejection.

"You need to focus on training… The Earth is depending on it. Our timing just isn't right," Bulma continued. She was trying to pull at Vegeta's hands, to get them off her shoulders, but they stayed firmly in place. "It was selfish of me to think we could have something between us. The timing just isn't right - you said so yourself."

It was at hearing this that Vegeta took his hands off the woman's shoulders and stepped back. All he had wanted since he'd landed on Earth the _first_ time was to be able to train in peace. Finally she was granting him this, telling him she would leave him alone, but now it didn't feel right. It had been what he had been asking of her for so long, so why did he suddenly feel so wretched when she told him he could have it?! Did she not realize that he was a _saiyan prince!?_ It was in his blood to be a warrior! She was speaking as if he'd have to choose between his training or his woman! Why did there need to be such guilt?!

"I'll never stop with my training, _woman._ You know that!" He said sternly.

Bulma glared at his tone. "I never told you to stop training! I couldn't care less about that! But _you_ don't know how to balance it!" She snapped. "There's _more_ to life than _just_ training! If you knew how to focus on more than one thing at a time then there would be no problem! You act like I'm a distraction, and _that's_ the problem!"

 _'Dammit!_ ' Vegeta stepped further away. "From that boy's warning about the Androids, you should know by now that I need to dedicate all of my time to preparations!" He yelled back. He wanted to leave this suffocating room! The words she said were true, and he couldn't even think of a good response. He hated it. He _had_ treated her like a burden, so what could he really say?

Bulma pulled herself up from her bed with a groan. _God, being pregnant could suck!_ Anytime she stood or sat it felt like the weight of her stomach was going to fall off! "I understood that!" She yelled. "If that's so true, then why did we have several _momentarily indiscretions_ , as you described them?! Just admit it, Vegeta! You let the loneliness get to you, too!"

Feeling cornered, Vegeta didn't even think before he barked back. "Exactly! That's all it was! Brief moments of weakness!"

His words didn't even sting. She'd been the first one to say it, hadn't she? She was already feeling better, having said what had been on her mind for nearly 10 weeks. There was no use in yelling anymore. So she took a deep breath, forcing her voice back to calm. "Right. We were both just lonely, and now it's done. So go train. Come back if you want to visit, and neither of us will expect anything other than that."

"Fine. I will." Vegeta turned from the woman and began to storm out of the room. She'd just dismissed him, and there was nothing else to say.

Bulma watched him go, and just as he turned out the door she called out a few last words. "I really did love you, though!"

She didn't know why, but she felt the need to say it. Perhaps she'd been a little too harsh, and she wanted to clarify her feelings. Maybe it was a sign that she still felt hope. Hope that someday they would be able to make things work.

He'd come back to Earth, hadn't he? And he'd gone straight to her. Bulma knew that inside he must have loved her too.

Timing could be so unfortunate sometimes...

"Jerk."


	24. Little Jabs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last chapter I'll be posting today. The farther along I get in this story, the easier it is for me to proof-read (there are less corrections to be made!)
> 
> I hope you enjoy. :)

* * *

Bulma was now 26 weeks pregnant. It had been about a week since her dispute with Vegeta, and for a week he'd been staying at the Briefs residence. He'd lock himself away in the ship during the day to train, and at night he'd indulge himself to Mrs. Briefs cooking and generally act like... well, himself.

For the most part things were civil between Bulma and Vegeta. They weren't inseparable by any means, but they weren't really fighting either. The Bluehead simply wanted to stay as positive as she could during her third trimester, and though she found herself overwhelmed by his presence at times, having Vegeta around was becoming easier to adjust to with each passing day. She had no desire to be rude towards him, and there wasn't anything that felt worth fighting about. They'd already agreed that it didn't make sense for them to try having a relationship, but he was still the only man she'd ever loved in such a strong way. He was _still_ the father of her unborn child, and it was hard to be cruel to someone when she felt that way.

On the other hand, Bulma did take note of Vegeta's attitude. He'd been moody _before_ he'd left in the first place, so his temper couldn't come to much of a surprise. But things were different now. In same way that Bulma had noticed that something had changed in the way he spoke and held himself, she could tell with the way he behaved after a training session. S _omething was different._ In this way, his attitude had gotten much worse. When Vegeta would come back inside the house after a long day of training, he'd seem especially irritated by everyone and everything that he encountered. Bulma knew Vegeta, and although he'd snap at her or speak in an incredibly irritated tone during these times, she knew he didn't mean it.

He was just being himself.

That being said, it didn't mean Bulma simply took his behavior submissively. When he would act rash towards her, she would simply throw her hands in the air and make a snippy comment back. She would say something along the lines of "Yeah, when you learn how to behave _maybe_ I'll pass you the dessert!" or "Wow Vegeta, do you not know how to talk? It's like you've been training in a freaking _cave_!"

It would take about an hour after finishing his training before the saiyan would calm down and speak to her with less harsh tone, but eventually his twitching emotions would settle.

 _What was it_ that happened during Vegeta's training to put him in such moods? Bulma figured that it was the determination he worked with. She understood that he trained single-mindedly, with one goal - and one goal only. His only aspiration was to become _stronger_. Whatever it was he was working for, she knew that he put all of his mental capacity and energy towards it. She believed that his behavior coming out of the ship was simply the process of his brain adapting to a different environment. _It was like when a person tries to cool off after a long, stressful day at work._ Bulma knew it. She understood it, but that didn't mean she didn't find his conduct exasperating at times.

It was on a certain night during her 26th week of pregnancy that Bulma was relaxing in the living room, flipping through a magazine. She was in a happy state despite how hostile Vegeta had been during dinner. Blissful from eating a warm meal, and relaxed as she was mentally preparing herself for bed, the Bluehead was tracing soft fingernails across her stomach. She heard the sounds of footsteps entering the room, and she looked up from her seat to see Vegeta walking through the door. He appeared to be heading for the stairs, and she smiled.

"Hey." She called.

Vegeta turned, almost as if he were surprised to be addressed by her. He was still feeling a little irritable from the stress induced by training, and he eyed her without a verbal response.

Bulma adjusted her position to make room for the saiyan, and she patted the couch cushion beside her. "Come here..." Her soft voice soothed.

He was looking into her eyes questioningly, but the saiyan made his way to the woman. "Sit down." She said.

Vegeta obliged, and finally he spoke. "What is it?"

Bulma ignored the curt tone in Vegeta's voice and pulled her shirt up, revealing her round stomach. She took the saiyan's hand and placed it over her bump. "Shh..." She breathed. "Just feel..."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow, looking down at the woman's stomach. Waiting. Her skin felt so soft and warm under his fingers, and it was a touch he hadn't experienced in quite some time. Bulma had closed her eyes and was firmly holding him in place, almost appearing as if she were lost in meditation. Vegeta, who had been on his way to take a shower, felt impatient. He had things to do, and he felt like she was just teasing him now. He was about to pull his hand away and demand an explanation, when suddenly something happened. It was a small nudge that came from within, hitting him right in the palm. It was soft and quick, and he might not have noticed it if Bulma hadn't told him to _feel_ for it.

Vegeta's eyes widened.

Bulma opened her own eyes, her smile growing wider. "Did you feel that?" She breathed. She didn't need to inquire, though. His expression said it all. Seeing his face cheered Bulma from her very core. She looked back down at her stomach, her grip on Vegeta's hand growing tighter. "I think he's doing some training of his own in there." She giggled. "He's been kicking like _crazy_ tonight."

Vegeta placed his other palm over Bulma's stomach in an attempt to get more of a feel. Sure enough, there was another soft jab after a few seconds.

"Interesting..." He muttered. He pressed his hands deeper into the skin, as if this would grant him with a harder kick. Vegeta couldn't believe what he was experiencing at that moment. He felt much more connected to the creature that was attacking him through Bulma's skin, than he had felt looking at a smudge that was printed on a piece of paper. This was a living, moving creature. And it seemed to be putting up a real fight inside. ' _Of course he's begun his training while still in the womb_!' Vegeta thought smugly. ' _He is MY son, after all_!'

Feeling nothing but joy in that moment, Bulma was watching Vegeta's face with a wide smile across her cheeks. When several seconds passed without feeling any more jabs, he carefully pulled his hands away. "I thought you'd want to experience that." She explained. "I could feel him moving around when you were still in space. But I didn't realize it was him then, it only felt like a small flutter - it was so subtle." She pulled her shirt back over her belly. "Sometimes he kicks and punches so hard that it hurts, and it feels like my body's going to crush from the blows. He's definitely _your_ son..."

Vegeta smirked. His ego was so overwhelmed in that moment. _His_ son was so active and full of spirit, and it hadn't even been born yet. _His_ son was going to grow to be a strong warrior, to carry on his royal line of blood. He looked at Bulma, seeing the genuine look of adoration on her face, her eyes glistening as she looked at him. Whether she was angry, happy, or sad, she always appeared beautiful to him. Her face was fuller than it had been when he'd first laid eyes on her, and so was her body. Yet despite any physical changes she had undergone, she was still _Bulma_. She was creating this child, she was **_his_** son's mother...

… She was _his_ beautiful Bulma…

As he analyzed the woman in front of him, he considered grabbing her face and kissing her. ' _Yes_.' He thought. ' _I could start with a kiss... Then I could rip that shirt right off with one hand, and...'_

He caught himself as his mind raced, and he forced the images from his head. The two had made an agreement, hadn't they? Things were relatively calm between them now, and indulging in a moment of pleasure would surely just cause many nights of fighting to come. It took everything in him to fight back the heat that was rising within as he looked her over. It wouldn't do to go about complicating things once again. He had enough respect for Bulma to not pressure her into doing something that she had already clearly told him she didn't want to do. Not when she hadn't indicated that her mind was changed in the slightest.

 _'I shouldn't even **want** to do this!_ ' Vegeta thought. ' _We both agreed not to, but here I am thinking about her like that again! How can she have so much power over me! This damned woman!'_

With that, he stood up abruptly. He needed to add distance between them before he started professing his feelings for her - not when he hadn't been able to accept them himself. His ego wouldn't let him have it.

Although he felt it, and he acknowledged its presence within, he had disguised it in his mind. _It wasn't love!_ No! It was _lust – desire!_ There was _no way_ he was feeling anything as vulnerable as _love!_

At least, that's how Vegeta preferred to think about it...

He didn't have time for _love_. Not when love required some type of commitment! He was much happier being on Bulma's good side, yet not feeling forced to _stay by_ her side at all times. He didn't _need_ the responsibility. He had his woman, _and_ he had his space. It'd be perfect if he could have the closeness with her that he desired nearly every time he looked at her for too long, but it was better this way! He told himself this, and he _needed_ to be the one in control of the situation. _He_ was the strong one, wasn't he?!

"Well, woman. I do have to say that was quite interesting." Vegeta suddenly said, the words coming out as a choke. "But I've got things I need to address. Try not to let him beat you up _too_ hard."

Bulma watched the saiyan leave. She had seen the look on his face – how it dropped from eager curiosity to anger in such a sudden moment. "Gosh, what's with him?!" She muttered bitterly. "Can't he _ever_ lighten up?! Just for once?!"

..

Upstairs Vegeta stepped into the hot water that was falling from the shower head. As steam filled the room, he closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of the drops hitting his back. Sexual frustration had soured his night once again.

The sensation of those tiny little taps could still be felt in his palms, and the saiyan squeezed his hands shut to block it out. Vegeta was experiencing knots in his stomach upon thinking of those little kicks. The initial elation from the incident downstairs had subsided, and he was now feeling far from excited.

_He was going to be a father._

_**HE** was going to have a son. _

Vegeta didn't feel like a father at all.

It felt much more real in that moment than it had during any other time of Bulma's pregnancy. Soon Bulma would be cradling some baby, and it would expect Vegeta's affection. It would expect his _time._ He just wanted to focus on his training... How time-consuming and distracting would it be for him when a baby was in the picture? Not to mention that babies were... well, _people_. It would be there for a very, very long time. Vegeta had been wanting to avoid any long-term commitments, and now this?

"Shit."

The seriousness of the situation was beginning to set in, and it was honestly scaring the hell out of him.


	25. Bundle of Surprise

* * *

When Vegeta came back to Earth, he'd encountered quite a few surprises. The first one, of course, had been that nobody had been home to greet his arrival. He had also been shocked to see how much Bulma had changed, both physically and mentally, during his time away. Nothing could compare, though, to the surprise Vegeta felt when he stepped out of his spaceship after a long day of training and heard a familiar voice speaking to the Bluehead he felt so possessive of.

Bulma was standing in the shade, rubbing her full stomach. At 35 weeks she appeared as if she'd pop any day. She had a semi-flustered look on her face, trying to shield the setting sun from hitting her in the eyes. In front of her stood Yamcha, striking a pose as he muttered something.

Vegeta was already in a bad mood from his training, and just hearing that worm's voice had been enough to enrage him. Now, watching as the scarface tried so blatantly hard to impress Bulma, the saiyan prince was fuming.

The tired mother-to-be, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, caught sight of the Saiyan, who was now making his way across the yard. Their eyes locked, and she smiled. "How was training?" She called, shifting her weight to the side as she held her stomach in place. Vegeta crossed his arms and continued on his path towards her, not speaking a word. He didn't _need_ to reply - the look on his face said it all. Yamcha, surprised at Bulma's tone, looked over his shoulder to see who she was talking to.

_Vegeta?!_

The fact that the Z-Fighters eyes were now popping out of his skull only worked to amuse Vegeta. He couldn't help but wonder if it was a look of fear, as he fought back the urge to smirk.

"Hey, man! What's the deal?" Yamcha scowled when the saiyan shoved past him, but the he still wouldn't reply. The saiyan found his spot next to the woman and turned to send the Z-Fighter another glare, his arms still crossed. He scowled, waiting to hear what Yamcha had to say, to see what the little pest had come for. How _dare_ Yamcha set foot _near_ his woman and _his_ unborn child!?

Vegeta was feeling protective.

He was feeling possessive.

Scratching the back of his head, Yamcha eyed the saiyan awkwardly and cleared his throat. The couple in front of him looked so natural as they stood side-by-side! There seemed to be no hostility between the two... It just felt _wrong!_

The last time Yamcha had seen Bulma in person, she'd told him that Vegeta had run off into space, and she didn't know when he'd even return. The Z-Fighter had been _so_ angry to learn that Bulma was still avidly defending the saiyan, even though he had blatantly used her for pleasure and fled. It seemed as if there was no getting through to the girl, and he was losing hope for her sanity. So, imagine the surprise he'd felt when Bulma had called him only a few weeks later to confess her pregnancy...

 _Pregnant! With_ _Vegeta's child!_

The only comfort he had with this news was that at the same time Bulma was telling him all of this, she was vowing that she'd never speak to the "ass of all saiyans" again. She wouldn't tell him what had caused her to change her mind so suddenly, but he was just glad that she finally seemed to be coming to her senses. She had begged him not to tell anyone about the news, and of course he had agreed. Yamcha tried to be nice to Bulma about it - he really did. She was obviously distraught. It had taken him months to come to terms with it. Bulma was his ex-girlfriend, after all. It was _just_ hard to swallow that there would be a miniature Vegeta running around, and that _Bulma_ was going to be its mother...

The situation that Yamcha now found himself in, as he watched the two standing so close to each other, was even harder to come to terms with. Bulma had seemed to hate Vegeta the last time they'd spoken of him. So why did they look _more_ than comfortable with each other as now? Were they back together?

_What was she thinking!?_

"So-ahh," Yamcha began, unsure of how to act, as he obviously searched for words. Bulma and Vegeta were both staring at him expectantly, and he could _swear_ he saw the Saiyan leaning even closer to her frame. It just wasn't right - this was all _so_ wrong! _Why was that spiky-haired creep standing so close to her?!_

"What's your business here?" Vegeta's harsh words snapped him from his thoughts. ' _How pathetic_.' The saiyan was thinking. He had more things to do than to watch this puny worm tremble!

"What's _my_ business here?" Yamcha replied, his shock turning into anger.

 _'Oh no.'_ Bulma thought, raising her eyebrows. She could see where this was going, and she really didn't want to witness the two in another fight. The third trimester of pregnancy had been incredibly hard on her, and for the past few days she'd been feeling worse than ever. She was naturally exhausted, aching all over, and had even been suffering from braxton hick contractions on and off for the last two weeks. They'd been particularly bad that morning, hitting her in recurring waves that sometimes made her feel as if she would either pass out or empty her stomach all over the room she was in. She could feel another one starting up in that moment, and the _last_ thing she needed was for the two men beside her to start with some heated altercation. Feeling anxious, Bulma placed a hand to her enlarged stomach and fought back a cringe. Not only did it hurt to touch, but it did not soft like it usually was... It felt _hard_ … _Something was off..._

"Yes! Tell me why you're here!" Vegeta snapped. The tension in his voice was enough to make Bulma close her eyes with a sigh, her head pulsing from the sound.

"You've got a lot of nerve asking me that, when _you're_ the one who ran off on the girl you knocked up!" Yamcha raised his fists, as if he were preparing for battle.

Bulma let out an even louder sigh, lightly slapping Vegeta on the arm in case he'd forgotten about her presence. "Vegeta, stop being jealous!" She ordered breathlessly. "My dad's been designing a new Capsule Corp car for Yamcha, and he's here to pick it up. That's all!" She turned her attention to the Z-Fighter now. "You, too! Stop bickering! I don't feel good right now, so just try to act like adults! _Both of you_!"

"Me?!" Yamcha snapped. "I didn't do anything! _He's_ the one who left you!"

If he wasn't so angry, Vegeta would have been amused at how pathetically weak Bulma's slap had been. It was even funnier watching Yamcha cower in front of her. But he was pissed, so he ignored his woman. Turning his attention at the dejected Z-Fighter, Vegeta growled triumphantly. "What's the matter, you imbecile? Are you mad because I train hard that I have to go to space just to find a proper match?" It was now that Vegeta began to sport a sly smirk. "... Or are you still sulking over the fact that I got your girl?" At this Vegeta placed an arm around Bulma's waist for effect, pulling her in with a protective glare.

The look on Yamcha's face was _so_ satisfying. A drop of sweat was forming at his temple, and he was about to open his mouth to respond, but Bulma's shrill voice beat him to it.

"AHH! YOU JERK!"

 _What?_ The Z-Fighter blinked in disbelief. Had he seen things correctly? He was pretty sure he'd just witnessed Bulma slap the saiyan across the face with as much force as she could summon. The sound of her palm colliding with his cheek was still echoing through the trees. The woman's movements had been so quick and flawless! Had it even been real?

Sure enough, Vegeta had a hand to his cheek. His eyes wide with shock, he was staring at Bulma in awe. "You... you _slapped_ me..." He was saying. It wasn't that he was hurt – it was more that he was trying to confirm to himself that it had really happened.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Bulma yelled back. "I'm not yours, I'm not his! I am not ANYBODY'S GIRL!" Her hands were balled into fists, shoulder trembling, and she turned on her heel to march aww. Well - rather than storming off, she was doing something that resembled more of a quick waddle. She fought back the need to cry out with each step she made, feeling dizzy as she desperately made for the house. Her braxton hick contraction was growing stronger with intensity as she moved, but she needed to get away. She needed to lay down. "I told you both not to fight, but you can't listen!" She called breathlessly as she went, lips curling from the tension in her abs. "You're BOTH acting like CHILDREN!"

"Hey!" Yamcha yelled.

"HEY!" Vegeta snapped. "Come back here, Woman!"

Of course Bulma didn't listen. She disappeared into the house, leaving the two men too stunned to continue their argument. It didn't take more than a couple of seconds for Vegeta to go after her, leaving Yamcha alone in the yard. _How dare she make him look like a fool in front of Yamcha - of all people!_

–

"Woman!" Vegeta spat as he turned into Bulma's room. "Explain yourself at once!" He hated that Yamcha had the _audacity_ to hang around, and he had _really_ been enjoying rubbing his affair with Bulma in that coward's face. The saiyan _knew_ that the two weren't technically together, but they _had_ shared relations, and she had ruined everything!

Bulma was sitting on her bed, her back leaning against the headboard. Tears were streaming down her face, and seeing them made Vegeta stop in his tracks... It was rare to see her like this, and his anger began to dim from the sight of it. "What are you...? Why are you crying?"

"Because this _sucks_! I can't bend over, I can't even walk correctly! None of my clothes fit properly anymore! I can hardly get out of bed each morning because I'm so fat that I can't lift my own weight!" She paused to catch her breath, wiping furiously at her eyes. "Do you know how it feels to not be able to tie your own shoes? I can't do _anything_ , and the baby's getting so big, when he kicks it hurts so bad! I'm in so much pain right now – it _really hurts_ \- and on top of all that _you_ have to act like such a child and start these stupid fights for no reason! I don't _need_ this!"

Vegeta was considering her words as she yelled at him. He hadn't realized that she could feel so bad in her condition. This was the first time she'd complained about her pregnancy to him at all, and he could emphasize with her confessions. He knew what it was like to feel so undignified. It was the same feeling he had when that _idiot_ Kakarot had defeated him during their battle - or how he had felt when his last dying thought was that _Kakarot_ would be the one to defeat Frieza on Namek. Vegeta understood too well, from his excruciating moments growing up as Frieza's slave and tortured in front of his comrades. He knew what it was like to have one's pride stripped away in the matter of minutes. Watching Bulma sob in such a state - this was her own experience with disgrace. She was fighting her own battle right in front of him, and he hadn't even realized it.

"You don't look bad, Woman." He offered. "You aren't fat. You are with child, you know that."

Letting out a sniffle, Bulma looked up at the saiyan, her eyes puffy and bloodshot. "I feel like I look like a huge cow. I used to be so confident… I used to love the way I felt in a tight dress. Now? Now all I can do is think about how gross I am!"

The saiyan prince crossed his arms in mock consideration. He eyed her stomach thoughtfully, as if thinking it over, and finally shook his head. "There's nothing wrong with your appearance, Woman. Even if you weren't carrying my son, I still wouldn't mind your shape."

She tried to fight back her smile. She didn't want him to know that his opinion of her mattered so much, but it was too nice to hear such things coming from _him_. "Not really..." She said modestly, looking down to hide her grin.

Vegeta had seen it, though. Those tired eyes lightening with her smile. They _always_ became brighter when she was pleased. ' _Great_...' He thought. ' _She's still mine.'_ The blue of her irises reminded him of a lake he used to live near on his home planet. He thought of how he liked sitting by it as a very young child while he meditated. It was such a calm, happy place for him to think of. How amazing it was that simply looking into those eyes could spark such a familiar feeling from within...

Suddenly Bulma groaned sharply, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two. "It really does hurt... Something doesn't feel right..." She looked up at Vegeta now, the happiness no longer in her cheeks. "I've been hurting all week, but this pain I'm having is different - it's starting to get _so bad_!" Vegeta raised his eyebrows with realization of what might be happening. Images from his dream about Frieza flashed back in his mind. He stood frozen, trying to decide on what to do.

"It's not time - it can't be." Bulma groaned, as if she was reading his mind. Her contraction was growing with such sudden intensity that her fingers began to quiver. Her eyes were clamped shut now, and she grit her teeth as the pain in her stomach increased, seeming to radiate throughout her entire body.

Vegeta felt helpless watching the woman struggle, knowing fully well that there was nothing he could do. How could _he_ know how to handle a situation like this?! He hadn't even _wanted_ a child in the first place! Suddenly his mind clicked, and his posture straightened. "I'll be right back." He said sternly, turning and leaving the room.

After what felt like hours - the tight feeling inside her abs seemed to take forever to cease - Bulma fell back on her bed. Although the contraction had ended, her body was still recovering from the shock, and she was feeling incredibly weak from the strain. ' _It's too soon for him to come!_ ' She thought in horror as she lay catching her breath. She couldn't deny it, though. This pain was _different_ from all of the Braxton hicks... Suddenly she heard the sounds of anxious footsteps breaking into the room.

"Oh, honey!"

It was her mom.

Bulma wiped at her forehead with her wrist, taken aback to find sweat on it. It was only a matter of time before another contraction came at her, and she was desperately dreading it. Feeling nauseous and not wanting to speak too much, she simply said "I think he's coming."

Vegeta stood in the hallway listening as the women spoke, his eyes tightly shut. He could hear Mrs. Briefs let out a yell, and he acknowledged her footsteps when they darted past him. _No, it couldn't be._ Bulma had said herself that it wasn't the right time! With her mother downstairs and shouting into the phone, he found himself back in the room and standing by her side. He was helping her to sit up as she warned him about how sick she was feeling. Beside the bed was a trash can, and grabbed it for her just in time for her to hide her face in it as she gagged. _How could this be happening already?_ It was all so surreal that he could hardly even feel the severity of the situation. It was as if he were watching himself from outside his own body as it all occurred. He placed a hand on her back supportively as she continued to heave, his terrified mind wondering how different things would be in only a matter of hours.

It didn't seem like long when Mr. and Mrs. Briefs burst into the room. They were both talking at the same time, and they didn't even acknowledge Vegeta's presence - their attention was understandably focused on Bulma. He slipped into the hallway, unnoticed, standing with his back against the wall. Before long Dr. Plocks was in Bulma's room too, and the saiyan could hear them all speaking to one another.

" _It can't be! She's still got another month before he's due_!"

" _I understand that, Mrs. Briefs, but she's well into labor. The baby is far enough along now that there shouldn't be any health complications_ , _and he's going to come whether we're ready or not. There isn't anything I can do to stop it at this point._ "

His mind racing just as fast as the people around him seemed to be, the saiyan wasn't sure if he was even breathing. He thought of how it felt when he put his palm on Bulma's stomach weeks ago and experienced those little jabs through her skin. The adoring smile on her face when it'd happened. How terrified he was at realizing, for the first time, what being a father would _truly_ mean. His trepidation for such a commitment...

The pained groans that were traveling through the halls, and it made him clench his jaw to hear it. With every passing second he was being hit with a new emotion, but the one thing he didn't feel was _ready_.

Who knows how long he had been standing in the hallway, his heart pounding against his chest as Bulma cried from the other room. It could have been hours that he was waiting alone, but suddenly Mrs. Brief's stuck her head out the door and called to the saiyan. "Vegeta. Vegeta! Bulma wants ya! Come _quick_!"

He obediently followed the blonde woman into the room, his feet feeling much more heavy than he'd ever remembered them to be. The next thing he knew he was standing by Bulma's side again, wiping sweaty hair from her face as she squeezed the fingers on his other hand. She was holding them pretty hard - he thought that if he were a normal human they'd probably be crushed from the force. But he was a saiyan, and her grip was only slightly uncomfortable. The look on her face was pure excruciation, and he wondered if she felt the same way he had when all of the bones in his body had been crushed during battle. _Was it the same type of pain_? She was handling it pretty well for a human...

The saiyan couldn't bring himself to look at what the doctor had been doing to her lower body. Once again he lost his concept of time, hearing the commotion around him as everyone barked commands. He didn't register any of it, too preoccupied with his own anxieties. He was still fixated on Bulma's determined face, still lost in his own thoughts, when the sound of a baby's cry snapped him into consciousness. Bulma's entire body had been tense, but she suddenly sank into her mattress with an exhausted gasp. Her fingers loosened their grip around the saiyan's rough hand, and she let out a weak sob.

His eyes widened as he listened to the child cough, a brief moment of silence before its wails filled the room once again. When Vegeta finally found the ability to look up to the source of the cries, all he could see was the doctor's back turned to him.

"Amazing, we must have miscalculated how far along you were. There's no way it could be five weeks early, this baby is almost nine pounds!" Dr. Plocks was saying. The doctor was holding the child in one hand and rubbing at him with a damp cloth with the other. He was trying to clean the child before handing him to his mother. The baby yowled, attempting to turn away from the doctor as the cloth brushed against his face. "Strange... he sure puts up quite a fight for being so young," Dr. Plocks muttered, more to himself than anybody else.

Still in shock, the only word Vegeta registered fully was _fight._

_Fight?_

"Hold still, little boy..." Dr. Plocks coaxed, "…Just a little more..."

The baby's little fists were balled tightly against his cheeks, and his little eyebrows furrowed then. He let out another yowl, and he slapped his fist against the doctor's hand, the cloth falling to the floor.

"Ow!" Dr. Plocks snapped, nearly dropping the boy.

Vegeta grinned. He knew the sound of a punch when he heard one.

"Just a coincidence," The doctor explained, turning to face Bulma with the clean baby. He forced a laugh, but it sounded more like a cry of pain. "He'll be trying to find out how to use his arms for a while. He just accidentally hit me, that's all. My, he's got a strong punch! It felt like he almost broke one of my bones!"

Vegeta crossed his arms, smirking now. ' _Sure.'_ He thought. ' _Blame it on an accident if that's what makes you feel better...'_

Despite Bulma's exhaustion - despite the pain she was still in from the entire ordeal - she felt overwhelmed with joy when the doctor placed the baby in her arms. She looked down at the little half-saiyan that was resting on her chest, instant connection as she locked eyes with him. The baby was surprisingly alert for only being 10 minutes old, and he seemed to be studying her face already.

"Oh..." Mrs. Briefs was whispering in the background, wiping a tear from her eye. "Look at that face!"

The baby had large blue eyes. He analyzed Bulma's features, as if he'd been waiting to see what she looked like for a _very_ long time. She still couldn't believe how alert he was, and it was even making her somewhat uncomfortable. Weren't newborn babies more prone to just sleeping? _Wasn't that what they did in the movies?! Was it normal for him to be focusing this well?_ It was as if he was analyzing her, judging her. Piercing him with that same scowl that Vegeta was so good at sporting. Bulma hugged him close to her chest, weakly smiling down at the baby as he continued to stare.

"Oh, Vegeta," Mrs. Briefs said. "He looks just like you!"

Bulma was still too awe-stricken to say anything. She was just amazed by how intelligent the baby seemed to be. Upon Mrs. Brief's observation, the baby looked up as if he now wanted to see what Vegeta looked like. It was as if he could understand _exactly_ what was being said.

"Vegeta, dahlin', move closer so the baby can see ya!" Mrs. Briefs instructed.

Vegeta, his arms still crossed, obliged. He leaned forward to face his son. How strange it was to be looking at this child - _his_ child! It was nothing like he imagined it to be! In his dream that baby had a black mane of hair, just like a Saiyan. _This_ baby was almost bald, but the hair it _did_ have was purple. He didn't understand what the blonde-woman was talking about. The child looked nothing like him!

The baby seemed to think the same thing. It blinked at Vegeta quietly, and then suddenly his expression changed. A grim scowl spreading across his puffy face, the baby closed his eyes and let out a sad sob.

"Well good going, Vegeta!" Bulma scolded, half joking, as she hugged the baby closer to her. "You made Trunks cry!"


	26. The Most Important Trait

* * *

 

Vegeta stood beside Bulma, feeling the heat in his cheeks rise. Baby Trunks was crying hysterically as the new mother attempted to coax him. "There, there," She soothed. "Daddy's face isn't _that_ bad." A weak grin was spread across her cheeks, and inside she was relieved. When Trunks had been staring at her in silence it had made her a bit uneasy. She simply hadn't been expecting it! But this? Now, _this_ felt like a _baby!_

In the background Mrs. Briefs let out a small giggle. Vegeta grunted irritably. Being mocked by a newborn child wasn't sitting well with the saiyan prince.

"Sometimes they can have delayed cries." Dr. Plocks offered, noting the look on the saiyan's face. "In fact, babies really can't focus their eyes too well this early on. There's no way he could have actually been able to see you!"

"Yeah, perhaps that's the case with _human_ babies," Vegeta muttered under his breath, his arms still crossed. Upon hearing this, Dr. Plocks' eyebrows began to sag in confusion. Though the saiyan didn't see this reaction because he turned back to face Bulma and Trunks, who had calmed down slightly. Bulma was brushing a hand across the baby's cheek, his young eyelids starting to look heavy. She was still smiling lethargically, concentrating deeply on baby Trunks, studying his tiny face. She had a tired, yet affectionate look in her eyes, which glistened as she analyzed his features. Her pale skin was almost looking translucent from the strain her body had been through. Her hair in a tangled mop, with random strands glued to the side of her face with sweat. Vegeta watched her, once again considering how stunning she was. She looked as if she had just won a tough battle, and was now basking in the glow of her victory. Seeing her like this, in such a barbaric yet serene state... The Saiyan was pretty sure that he hadn't ever felt such attraction in his life. She was a lot tougher than he had been giving her credit for, and her outer beauty was merely an added benefit.

In the background the Doctor began to speak, snapping Vegeta from his thoughts. "This entire case has been extraordinary, I must say. You gave birth to a healthy baby boy, more than a month early. He weighs more than most full-term newborns do! He's… He has _phenomenal_ physical strength, he seems to be remarkably observant for his age..."

Vegeta rolled his eyes. He found the doctor's droning more than irritating. It was an unnecessary waste of time. It wasn't as if the man were announcing anything that Vegeta hadn't already been aware of! This _was_ a _saiyan_ child, after all! As irritated as he was, nothing could rattle the new father quite as much as the doctor's next words did.

"...Now, my main concern is his _tail._ "

Vegeta swung on his heels abruptly to shoot a look of warning, which caused the flustered professional to step back. "N-No need to be alarmed, sir," Dr. Plocks said, his voice shaking slightly. He's never seen such a murderous look on a face before. "It's not as bad as it may look... I noticed the growth in ultrasounds that Bulma had, but I thought perhaps it was an error on the machine's part... it isn't affecting the baby's health at all!"

No response was offered by Vegeta, who continued to glare at Dr. Plocks coldly. The look in his eyes caused the doctor's heart to race. Flustered, he continued. "Th-The removal process can be quite painless for your child! If done properly-"

"There will be no need for that!" Vegeta snapped, pure ferocity in his eyes.

Bulma, who had been feeling half-asleep and light headed, jumped at the sudden tone in Vegeta's voice. She pulled Trunks closer into her chest. It wasn't an act of fear, but rather of maternal instinct to comfort. She then looked up at the man standing beside them, watching him in silence. She was feeling rather lazy and found his defensiveness interesting, but otherwise she was undisturbed by his behavior. Vegeta was just being himself. ' _Hmm, A tail?'_ She thought sluggishly. ' _Oh, right... A tail._ ' She had completely forgotten about a saiyan's tail! Goku had lost his long ago. And Vegeta didn't have one, so it simply hadn't crossed her mind as a possibility. ' _Oh well.'_ She made a mental note to ask Vegeta about his own missing tail, but for the time being she was content with lethargically watching the other people in the room.

Dr. Plocks' mouth was dropped open, a combination of shock and fear. "You... you want to _keep_ it?"

"Of course!" Vegeta snarled.

At this point the doctor had backed into Mr. Briefs and was desperately looking to him for help, unsure of how to respond. In a younger state Mr. Briefs might have been equally perplexed by the ordeal. But he was a man of science, and scientists were conditioned to adapting to things that were once thought to be impossible. On top of that, he had been exposed to enough superhuman encounters that came with knowing the Z-Fighters. A baby being born with a tail was _nothing_ in comparison. What he didn't understand was why Vegeta was being so hostile about it, but he could clearly see that it wasn't an appropriate time to ask. So instead Bulma's father cleared his throat, wanting to dissipate the tension in the air. "Alright, a lot has happened tonight. The tail isn't hurting anyone right now. We can always discuss this at a later time."

"There is nothing to discuss." Vegeta spat, dissatisfied. With that, he once again turned to the woman laying on the bed beside him. Baby Trunks, who had been nuzzling into Bulma's chest, was now looking over his shoulder at Vegeta. His blue eyes were wide as he watched his father. Not with fear, but with intrigue at his tone. A tail with thick brown fur was protruding from his rear and was slowly beginning to sway in the air. The tail had been the first thing that Vegeta had looked for when he'd laid his eyes on Trunks. He had been secretly glad to see that his son had one. It was the only trait that Trunks seemed to have that matched Vegeta's dream. It was the only trait the baby had that seemed to resemble _him._

It was the _one_ trait that had mattered the _most_.

"This is the mark of a _real_ warrior," Vegeta growled, more to himself than to anybody else. "Nothing could be more disgraceful than to remove it."

The look that Dr. Plocks was shooting at Mr. Briefs could only be described as saying " _Okay, I get it now! Obviously this guy is crazy... I'll come back when he's not home._ "

"Oh, look..." Mrs. Briefs whispered then, shifting the room's focus away from the hostility.

Bulma, her face nuzzling into her new baby, had succumbed to her fatigue. She lay still as she snoozed, her arms protectively cradling the infant. Trunks, his own eyelids heavy, yawned. He seemed to be following by her example.

"Enough about this tail talk. It's 3 in the mornin'. Let the girl have her rest!" Mrs. Briefs was saying.

One by one Vegeta listened as Bulma's parents and the doctor left the room. He could hear them whispering to each other in the hallway about monitoring the new mother. He stood by the Bluehead's side in silence, watching as she and Trunks slept. Her cheekbones looked so subtle in the dim light… Once again he was finding himself lost in his thoughts, overwhelmed by his emotions and the weight of the situation.

The baby let out a soft coo in its slumber, snapping the saiyan back to room he stood in.

 _'I need to rest_.' He thought, realizing how exhausted he was, himself. ' _I have training tomorrow. No child is going to hold me back from my training._ '


	27. A Rough Start

* * *

Dazed, hot, and worn out, Bulma woke feeling like a dehydrated mess. Her tongue was dry and clung to the roof of her mouth with need of water, as if she'd been sleeping for 20 hours – or was it just 3? Her head heavy, her eyelids were still clamped shut, but she was _painfully_ aware that she was awake. The soreness that radiated in her stomach and between her legs was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. ' _No.'_ She thought, fighting to retain her slumber. She wasn't ready to wake up, and if she opened her eyes now she would be sealing the deal. Bulma was so disoriented and debilitated that she didn't even think about what had happened the night before. At least, not until _he_ moved.

The softness of his skin, his small head nuzzling into her rib. A muffled coo. She opened her eyes.

 _'Trunks..._ ' She thought, stretching her neck to look down at him. The baby was fidgeting, his arms bent at an angle so that his small fists were pressed against his cheeks. His eyes were squeezed tight and he was shaking his head softly, as if he too were trying to remember what had happened the night before.

"Ahh!" Bulma cringed, shifting her weight to hold the baby closer. Trunks clasped at her when she did this, his eyes still closed. He opened his mouth and began to brush it over her skin, rooting for food. "Oh," she whispered, her heart warming at the feeling...

It was strange how quickly instincts could develop, or how strongly they could work. Without thinking about it Bulma found herself sitting up in bed, shirtless, holding the baby to her chest. With Trunks' rooting instinct and Bulma's maternal nature combined, she now found him sucking at her hungrily as she fed him. She was hugging him close, still coming to terms with her new reality, when the door cracked open. In her tired-and-terrified-yet-euphoric bliss, Bulma hardly paid any attention. She was looking down at her baby, focusing on his face and trying to ignore the pain she felt between her legs.

"Oh," a familiar voice gasped. It was Dr. Plocks. "You're... already feeding..."

Bulma glanced up dreamily and nodded slowly, caressing her baby's cheek. It all felt so natural that she didn't even think to cover herself up.

Dr. Plocks stepped inside the room and spoke to Bulma about her pain, about what to expect with her body during the next couple of weeks. He'd shown her how to put Trunks' diaper on, and even gave her instructions on how to feed her baby. "Your body may be producing milk already, but it might not be enough. Don't be afraid to give him formula... Whatever you do _, don't_ give him cow's milk. It won't provide enough nutrients and can cause problems with his digestive system." He was saying. She nodded blankly at everything he told her, still overwhelmed, and by the time he'd left Trunks was already asleep once again. With a groan she stood up to pull a robe on, still feeling understandably sore. Then, clenching her teeth at the pain, she lifted the baby and began to carry him down the hall towards his nursery. She passed Vegeta's room as she went, and she glanced inside. His door was open and the room was empty. _He was already up?_

It felt too surreal to lay baby Trunks down in his crib for the first time. When Bulma had woken up in pain the day before she hadn't realized it was early signs of labor. How clueless she had been - she never would have thought that just 24 hours later she'd be laying her son down and watching him sleep...

Downstairs Mrs. Briefs, who had let the doctor into the house, had laid out a small breakfast for Bulma. She was cleaning dishes when she heard her daughter enter the room, and she looked up with a smile. "Are you hungry?" The Bluehead nodded, slowly making her way to the kitchen table. She stiffly took her seat and looked down at her plate of food.

"The doctor seemed really proud of you when he left, honey." Mrs. Briefs said, taking a seat across from her daughter. "He says your entire case is extraordinary, and I told him that you've always been a special girl!"

Her blue eyes glistening, Bulma wasn't paying much attention to what her mother was saying, for her mind was elsewhere... She'd been hoping to see _Him_ eating when she'd come downstairs... Her mother was still going on about the events that had just taken place when Bulma finally interrupted her, too bothered to humor anything else. "Have you seen Vegeta?"

"Oh, I heard him before I got up, actually. I think he went to his ship already. No breakfast or anything! Kinda early if you ask me, but you know how your man is!"

Events from the night before replayed in her mind on loop. Or, at least, the parts of it that she could remember. She had been so tired and disheveled by the end that her memory of what happened after Trunks was born was foggy. She could distinctly remember when she had been pushing, though... It was something she had worried about when Vegeta had gone off into space – would he be with her when she gave birth? The idea of being alone during labor had scared her and made her depressed, but in the end he had been with her after all. He really had been by her side when she'd asked for him. _Vegeta, standing right beside her, holding her hand, brushing his fingers through her hair, giving her fingers a squeeze of support_...

Bulma felt a tightening in her heart as it began to beat faster. He might not have said much throughout the ordeal, but she didn't care about that. It meant so much to think of how tenderly he'd been handling her... To think of the look that had been in his eyes... Yet she was uneasy. She wished he was there with her again that morning. She wanted to talk to him about the night before, to have him wrap his arms around her and say something comforting and supportive. Yet the sun had barely risen into the sky, and he'd already sealed himself off into his ship… It didn't feel right. It worried her...

"You feeling okay?"

Bulma realized she'd been staring out the window. She snapped out of her daze and looked up at her mother, forcing a weak smile in the process. "I'm just... tired."

"Well, try to get some rest while the baby's sleeping. But try to eat somethin' first. You need your energy."

..

Vegeta, shirtless and sweaty, stood in the space ship. His chest was heaving as he caught his breath. He'd decided to work with intense gravity again and had set the machine to 450. He'd achieved his goal of becoming a super saiyan months ago and had spent enough time exploring his new powers. He was now ready to once again work under maximum gravity. Yet, despite the fact that he had achieved what he'd worked so hard for, he was frustrated. It was an irritation that he encountered each time he trained. When he powered up as Super Saiyan his primal instincts were set to their peak. Each time he felt that energy coursing through his veins he was overwhelmed with the need to fight, to show off his power, to demand dominance. It was frustrating to not have a proper release. He didn't have _anybody_ to spar with - not a single outlet other than himself and his robots. How isolating it felt to have such a strong craving that he knew he could not fulfill.

He was growing restless for the day he'd meet the Androids. The day he'd get his release. The day he'd be able to prove to everyone that he really _was_ perfect, and reveal that he'd finally surpassed Kakarot's power. Each time he trained the impatience only grew and his mood became worse from it, but it never was enough to deter him from his routine. He wouldn't let _anything_ make him skip his training! Not when he walked out of the ship feeling even _more_ strong each day! The progress was something he craved - even if it caused all of his nerves to skyrocket.

He'd had trouble concentrating when he'd first started his workout that morning. Understandably, he was tired and distracted by what had occurred just a few hours earlier. In fact, he hadn't slept at all. But he was in his zone now. As much as the training took a toll on his mood, it was refreshing. The rush of confidence he received, the reminder that he was all-powerful and not to be crossed... It was the relief he needed to take his mind off of how uneasy he felt about what was becoming of his personal life.

This was _all_ he had…

..

Bulma had hardly managed to finish her breakfast when she heard Trunks stirring upstairs. A loud howl erupting through the halls as Trunks demanded attention, Mrs. Briefs had jumped to her feet and ran to assist her with Trunks. Together the women had changed his diaper, rocked him, and even tried to distract him by singing. It had been hours, and the baby continued to cry despite their efforts. He was now rooting at Bulma's shoulder, breathlessly howling as he expressed his woes.

"Just feed him, already!" Mrs. Briefs insisted, beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed.

"But he _just_ ate!" Bulma said. "That can't be it!"

"Just look at him, hun! He's hungry!"

Trunks had given up on rooting and was now shoving his fist in his mouth, sucking away at it desperately. He _did_ look pretty famished... Bulma sighed and gestured for her mother to leave the room. "Okay, let's try this again..." She said softly, positioning Trunks against her chest. The baby immediately began to nurse ravenously, breathing quickly through his little nose. "Jeez, you really _were_ hungry," Bulma commented. Her chest was beginning to ache. She could tell that what little milk she had within was running out, and she grimaced at the uncomfortable feel of the suction. It was starting to hurt. Before long Trunks looked up at her, an irritated gleam in his eyes. "You're going to have to wait for more, little guy." Bulma said. She pulled him away from her chest as the baby struggled in protest. "Hey now, there's no more milk." Bulma reiterated. "You've had enough anyway!"

It was clear that he did not agree. Trunks opened his mouth and began to howl once more.

"No no, don't cry!" Bulma's face dropped.

At this he began to wail even louder, and Mrs. Briefs charged into the room. "What is it now?!" The blonde grandmother exclaimed.

"Mom, could you go buy some formula? He's _still_ hungry!" Bulma called over the baby's wails.

..

In the ship Vegeta was doing sit-ups. His face was covered in sweat, and he took in a deep breath with each movement. ' _Yes.'_ He thought, his face strained. ' _Just… a little more...'_

Suddenly he felt a jolt and paused in his actions. He was sensing a sudden energy, and it seemed to be coming from the house. It was dim, but strong enough for him to be taken aback. Vegeta focused on what he was feeling, looking towards where the power was coming from.

After a few moments he raised his eyebrows, a drop of sweat falling from his face. _Was that the infant?_

He thought back on how he'd been in denial when he'd first learned of Bulma's pregnancy. How he'd tried to convince himself that Yamcha was the father. ' _That boy is already stronger than Yamcha!'_ He thought with a breathless chuckle. ' _If the tail wasn't proof enough... With his power there's no doubt that he's mine.'_

It was then that Vegeta noticed his abs convulsing, still in mid sit-up. He realized that he'd allowed himself to be distracted by his workout, which was an unacceptable mistake on his own part. " ** _Damn!_** " Frustrated, he shook his head and resumed his exercise. "Just for that moment of weakness..." He breathed. "I'm starting from the beginning! One... Two... Three..."

* * *

That night Bulma fell into her bed. It'd taken forever to get Trunks to sleep. Despite all of her efforts, he was defiantly _unhappy_. By the time he fell asleep Trunks had already gone through the entire container of baby formula, any supply of milk that the Bluehead had managed to accumulate in the meantime, and had managed to cry enough that she nearly wanted to join in and sob along with him. The new mother had been so exhausted and overwhelmed that she hadn't been able to focus on anything other than trying to soothe her baby. But now that she was alone and laying in bed, she realized that she hadn't seen Vegeta _at all_ that day.

"Is he still in the ship?" She wondered out loud, her head sinking deeper into her pillow. The uneasiness she had encountered in the morning was now flooding back, but she was too tired to let it keep her awake. Her eyes were closed, and she could feel herself being dragged into a pleasant state of dreams. The last thing she thought about before completely falling asleep was Vegeta's rough hand caressing her cheek.


	28. A Moment of Silence

* * *

Standing in his ship, once again trying to meditate before his training, Vegeta was frustrated. For the past two weeks he'd hardly gotten any sleep. He'd tried to, of course, but he was having difficulty clearing his mind. It was hard to relax when the Briefs household had been so chaotic. He wasn't used to it – he had grown accustomed to finding sanctuary after his training in that home! A large meal, a warm shower, and a quiet bed to retreat to after a long day of physical strain was something he'd come to expect from this place. But the overall calm aura of the residence had turned to disarray with the coming of the boy.

 _It was that child - that damned child, and his uncompromising complaints!_ That woman and her infant had been driving him crazy...

… Trunks never seemed to stop his crying, and the woman was acting manic along with him. She'd always been unafraid of confrontation, but she had become especially short-fused lately. Quick to blow up at anybody who was in her presence at the wrong time, easy to set off. And it wasn't just that woman - it was the whole damned family! They seemed to feed off of each others' moods, getting into heated arguments over how to handle Trunks and blaming each other for his temperament while Vegeta did what he could to remain unnoticed as he slipped out of the room.

It was all too loud, much too ridiculous for Vegeta to tolerate. Even when he had been residing on Frieza's ship, he hadn't had to put up with such needless bickering. Despite the warfare, cutthroat backstabbing, and plotting that took place among the men, things had been relatively calm and quiet in space. There was a system – a certain order on how things were run that Frieza had expected, but no such structure existed with Bulma's family on Earth. The commotion at the Briefs residence was unorganized and barbaric, and it was driving him _crazy_. In fact, he'd found the situation so intolerable that for the last 6 days he had taken to even sleeping in the ship, but it hardly offered much relief. He could still _sense_ the commotion going on within the house, and the baby's cries seemed to echo in his head as he tossed and turned at night.

The only thing that kept him from feeling completely mad during this time was the knowledge that soon, in less than a year, he'd be able to show off his new power to all of the Z-Fighters. It was what he focused on for sustenance in the midst of all of this madness. Kakarot would see just how strong he was when he defeated the androids without any help! He'd even take Kakarot on, and battle him in front of everyone! How great it was going to feel when Vegeta wiped that goofy smile off that cherished hero's face, and he was going to do it as the rest of the team watched...

… He'd show them all...

Now, two long weeks after Trunks' birth, Vegeta was attempting to clear his mind before a training session in his ship. His focus was suffering more than ever with his lack of sleep and the loud uproar that was constantly taking place. Even as he stood, confined in the walls around him, he could hear the boy's cries coming from inside the house. They were intruding his thoughts, circling his brain, preventing him from successfully meditating.

"Ahh!" Vegeta growled. "I wish that boy would stop his _relentless_ whining!"

_.._

_"Aww, what's the matter Trunks?"_ Bulma sang desperately. Trunks, 2 weeks old, was in hysterics. It seemed that he'd been that way ever since he'd taken his first breath of air. The young mother was cradling the baby into her chest as she swayed back and forth, but her actions only seemed to make his screams grow louder in defiance. Dr. Briefs walked into the room, rubbing his aching temples as she went. "Bulma, I know he's cute and all, but could you please at least try to keep him more quiet? I can't concentrate on my research."

"Does it look like I'm not trying?!" Bulma swung around with a glare.

Dr. Briefs raised his eyebrows and looked down at his grandson. Baby Trunks was now shoving a fist into his mouth and sucking at it, muffling his own yells. "Well, have you tried feeding him?"

"Of course I have!" Bulma cried, her shoulders tensing. "What - you think _feeding him_ hasn't occurred to me?! He sucks at me until it _hurts_ , Dad! But that's not good enough! I think he's still hungry, but I don't have any more milk right now, and we're out of formula again! I just don't know _what to do_!"

Dr. Briefs made a sour face, not comfortable with the mental image of his daughter breast feeding.

Bulma looked down at the baby, his little red cheeks wet from his tears. He looked so desperately miserable, so exhausted from his own sobs, and it broke her heart. She sighed sadly, repositioning him in her arms. "Oh, Trunks... what am I supposed to do?"

The baby opened his eyes, his fist still jammed in his mouth. He glowered up at his desperate mother, giving her a stubborn look that Vegeta often made. It was a look that usually meant ' _I don't care what means you stoop to, but you'd **better** accommodate me!'_

Mrs. Briefs walked in then, forcing a smile so wide that it made the muscles in her cheeks ache. "Bulma, I can't garden with him cryin' so loud..." She was trying to hide it, but there was an irritable undertone in her voice.

"Yeah, thanks for the tip, _Mom!"_ Bulma retorted, bouncing the baby in her arms. "If you guys aren't going to help then just leave me alone! You think I'm not trying!?"

Trunks pulled his fist out of mouth to take a deep breath. _Crying was taking a lot out of him_! For a split second there was silence in the room as the baby caught his breath, but as soon as it seemed to come it had already passed. The baby resumed his screaming, this time louder than ever. Dr. Briefs covered his ears and began to back away towards the door, his wife right alongside him. "Oh, Trunks!" Bulma sighed sadly, her eyes welling with her own tears. "I wish I knew how to help you... What am I supposed to do?!"

* * *

Her hair was in a messy bun, with frizzy strands sticking out in every direction. Bulma was standing over Trunks' crib and laying the infant down. ' _Finally, he's asleep!'_ She thought. It had taken her hours to calm the baby, and just when she thought she would burst into tears and sob with him, he had finally dozed off. The new mom was so fatigued that she wanted to crawl into the crib with Trunks, to take as much advantage of her time as possible by simply getting some rest. But she was a breastfeeding mother, and she was feeling hungry herself. She knew that she needed to eat so her body could have energy to produce Trunks' dinner. So, with a sigh, she sadly left the room, envious of the infant's slumber.

Downstairs Bulma was resting her face in the palm of her hand, poking at a small plate of noodles with the other. Now that she was no longer pregnant she was back to eating normal portions. She let out a sad sigh, feeling the pressure of her situation and trying not to burst into tears. If she started crying she wasn't sure if she'd be able to stop. As happy as she was to have Trunks in her life - as fulfilling that it felt to hold him in her arms - it had been **_really_** hard. It seemed that the only reason he woke up was to cry for food, and there wasn't a single thing she could do about it. She was tired, she was worried, and she was sad. She knew exactly what the issue was with her baby - he was _just_ hungry. She'd spoken to her doctor already. The only advice that he had to offer was to give him formula, but she'd already tried that! Trunks went through a container of formula as if it were a snack, and it'd only take a few seconds before he had resumed his howling for even more.

It was hard when no matter what she did it seemed as if Trunks was starving. Each time that Bulma found herself desperately cradling him as he sobbed, she felt a little more useless and a little more like a failure. Caring for him had been her _role._ She was a mother, and it was her duty to keep her baby happy and healthy. When he remained so inconsolable she felt nothing but guilt, as if she'd completely messed up at the only job she had. It broke her heart to know that Trunks was so miserable, and to feel as if there was just absolutely nothing she could do about it.

_What kind of mother couldn't comfort her own son?_

Mrs. Briefs was standing over the stove, cooking the buffet of food that was prepared every night for dinner. "You know." She said finally, turning to point her wooden spoon at her daughter. "This is normal."

Her tired eyes glazing over at her mother's words, Bulma put her chopsticks down. "What do you mean?"

"Babies cry, that's what they do! The first month after you were born I was a nervous wreck, I tell ya. It just takes some time to get used to your baby. You gotta get to know his personality, you know! Develop a chemistry! You gotta remember that the little guy is new to all this, too. He was just born a few weeks ago! I promise, it gets a lot easier with time." Mrs. Briefs turned back to the stove, stirring the boiling pot of stew in front of her.

Bulma could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. "But I _know_ what the problem is, Mom... and you do too! There's a _reason_ why he's crying!" With that she pushed her plate aside, slouching over the table and hiding her face into her arms. "Oh, I don't know what to do!" She choked, but to Mrs. Briefs it only sounded like a muffled yelp. Bulma was so exhausted, and it felt so good to lay her heavy head down, even if it was in an awkward position. She closed her eyes, taking a moment to try and clear her mind as she listened to her mother tend to the food. A few moments later footsteps could be heard approaching the kitchen. Bulma squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, not ready to end her moment of silence.

"I'm ready for my meal."

It was _him_. This was enough to motivate her. Bulma opened her eyes and gazed up slowly, grimacing as the light her face. Her head felt heavier than ever as she came out from her rest, her body protesting with its need for a good sleep. In front of her Vegeta was pulling a chair up and sitting across the table. He had a usual scowl on his face, and he crossed his arms as he waited for Mrs. Briefs to serve him.

Bulma wanted to smile at him, to be happy to see him so close. A couple of weeks earlier she would have been delighted to hear his voice, and it wasn't something she'd been too pleased with herself about. She'd tried to keep herself emotionally unattached from _that guy_ , she really had. She'd been the one to say that it wasn't the right time for them to try and be a couple, _hadn't she_? Yet, after sharing her labor with him, she had craved his company more than ever - and she had barely received it. Vegeta had locked himself away in his ship the very morning that Trunks was born, and as the days passed Bulma put so much of her energy towards trying to comfort the newborn that she'd forgotten about that moody Saiyan prince. The days had turned into weeks, and she had hardly seen him more than a few times in total. While she spent long hours desperately trying to comfort her baby, Vegeta had offered no help at all, only burying himself even deeper into his training routine as if all was well in the world. Watching him now, scowling as he stared into his lap, she began to feel irritated. How dare he act so entitled when _she'd_ been the one doing all of the hard work!

"My, aren't you moody today?" Mrs. Briefs, who had grown used to Vegeta's post-workout hostility, commented with a forced giggle. She began pulling a set of plates out from one of the kitchen cabinets. "I wonder what goes on in that ship!"

Vegeta didn't respond, instead turning to glare out the window. The fact that he was sitting across from her but hadn't even glanced in her direction irritated Bulma even more. "Yeah, Vegeta. What _are_ you doing in there?" She hissed, eyes narrowing. " _Nice to see you_ , by the way! You've been locked in that ship more than ever lately!"

She saw that his muscles seemed to clench when she snapped at him. If there was anything that the prince of saiyans hated, it was being talked down to. Without looking up from the window he replied. "It takes longer to train when concentrating is a challenge." He spoke coldly. "Perhaps if I could listen to my own thoughts it wouldn't take twice as long to be productive. I've already told you to keep the boy more quiet. Don't complain to me when you haven't done your job."

 _That did it_.

The heat was rising in her cheeks. Ever since he'd come back from his trip in space he'd been in the _worst_ moods after training. She'd found this annoying to begin with, but it had gotten even worse after Trunks was born, and it continued to magnify with each passing day. Bulma was getting fed up, and there would _be_ no biting her lip this time. Knowing that Trunks was asleep upstairs was the only thing that held her back from completely shouting at that moment. "Well, _you_ don't have any right to complain when you don't do anything to help!" She shot. "You _know_ that he's just hungry, and you _know_ that I've been trying everything I can!"

It was then that Mrs. Briefs came to the table with a tray of dishes and set it down in front of Vegeta. The saiyan now focused his attention on his dinner, still not even glimpsing Bulma's way. "So, if the boy's hungry then feed him! It isn't _that_ hard to figure out! You act as if you never knew that saiyans like to eat?" He scoffed. "Don't blame me for your inability to grasp simple concepts!" With that he began to attack his dinner.

 _Son of a-!_ Bulma was so mad that she was tempted to flip the entire dinner table at the audacity of his words! But she couldn't – _it would wake Trunks –_ so she sat, trying to calm her composure, watching the man in front of her stuff his face. As she observed Vegeta, though, she began to feel her anger starting to slowly dissipate. It was always interesting to watch him during his meals. How ferociously he'd feast, as if he hadn't seen food for weeks. Yet somehow he managed to eat in a sophisticated manner... not quite as barbaric as the way Goku dined. ' _Those saiyans - it's as if they have bottomless stomachs.'_ She thought, thinking back on how insatiable her own appetite had been during her pregnancy.

It was then that his words _really_ clicked in her mind, and her face lit up with a bright smile. Her realization had put her in such a good mood that she stood, made her way around the table, and wrapped her arms around the saiyan from behind. Vegeta had been so fixated on his meal that he hadn't noticed her advances, and he seemed to be taken completely off guard when she embraced him. He actually paused, chopsticks in midair, to give her a questioning look. _What happened to the Earth woman to change her mood so dramatically?_

"You're a genius!" Bulma squealed happily. "Oh Vegeta, you're a better Dad than you'd like to admit!"

 _'Dad?'_ Vegeta thought, gulping his meat down.

"Why, isn't that cute!" Mrs. Briefs commented lazily from the stove. Bulma turned to her, beaming from ear to ear. "Mom, will you help me? We've gotta get ready before Trunks wakes up!"

..

When the baby stirred from his sleep he turned to snuggle his cheek against his mother, but found that nobody was there to nuzzle into. His heart dropped as he realized he was alone. He opened his eyes and glanced around at his surroundings. The room was dark, but with the moonlight he could make out the shape of the bars that seemed to be circled around him. Trunks hated when he woke up by himself, _especially_ when it was dark and when his stomach was growling. Those two ladies that were always carrying him around knew he didn't like to be left unattended, so how _could_ they have abandoned him?! On top of that, Trunks didn't like _those bars_. The baby didn't exactly understand what purpose the bars of the crib could have served, but he knew how trapped they made him feel. Those bars, closing in on him, making him feel encaged... _They were the last straw_. The baby was feeling a little betrayed, he was feeling a little scared, and he was feeling a _lot_ hungry.

"He's awake." Vegeta said cooly, placing the glass he'd just been drinking from back on the table.

 _'Huh_?' Bulma thought, looking up from her project. Before she had a chance to respond the house had been filled with the sound of a distraught newborn. Acting on a learned instinct, she immediately took off for the stairs to fetch Trunks. When she returned to the kitchen with the screaming baby in her arms she saw that Vegeta had already disappeared, but she wasn't surprised. She hardly cared - Bulma was too distracted thinking about what she was about to do. On the table Mrs. Briefs had replaced Vegeta's plates with several bottles that the two women had prepared.

Bulma sat down and propped Trunks up on her lap. She grabbed the bottle and looked it over. The nipple had been cut to widen the hole and allow thicker substance to pass through. She just hoped that her idea would work...

"Come on now, open up little guy..." Bulma coaxed, popping the nipple into his mouth. As soon as he felt it on his tongue Trunks immediately stopped sobbing. His little hands grabbed at the bottle, trying to hug it as he sucked earnestly. Inside the bottle there was a disgusting looking goo that Bulma simply thought of as a "mashed surprise." She and her mother had gone through her refrigerator, throwing various vegetables and fruits into bowl. The food has been mashed down into a fine paste, which Bulma had scooped into as many bottles as she could get her hands on. It was similar to a certain drink she'd prepared for Vegeta when he was still recovering from his ship explosion, but this recipe didn't contain any meat. She'd worried that perhaps the concoction would be too thick for the baby to swallow, or that Trunks wouldn't like the taste, but as he sucked away he seemed happy enough.

"Maybe this will be a little more filling for you than formula," Bulma said softly. "I know you want food, but you can't chew until you grow teeth. Do you think you can settle with this for now?" She spoke as if she were trying to reason with an adult. Bulma could tell by the look on her baby's face that he was feeling agreeable, whether he understood her or not. And, by the time he had finished his fifth bottle, he had a content expression in his eyes that Bulma had not yet seen from him since his birth. It was the look of satisfaction. _It felt so good to consume something that wasn't milk or watered down powder..._ When Trunks pushed the bottle away and took a pleasant little breath, it made Mrs. Briefs wipe a tear from her eye. "Bulma, darling. I think it worked..."

Mrs. Briefs didn't receive a response. The exhausted mother just cradled Trunks in her arms and smiled down at him. Overwhelmed, but this time with joy, Bulma was fighting back a new set of tears. The baby was clutching at her shirt, cooing softly as he studied her face. Aside from the first night of his life when he had quietly stared up at her from her arms, this was the first time he was doing such a thing. The feeling was incredible. The world had suddenly been lifted from her shoulders, Bulma sniffling with relief.

 _Her baby was happy_.

…If only Vegeta would have stayed to witness this, to share this moment of silence with her...

.

… Vegeta was once again locked away in his ship. He was practicing his punches, intense concentration on his face. The rush of energy he got after eating gave him an edge to push himself even harder. ' _Yes.'_ He thought wickedly. ' _Wait until Kakarot sees...'_

Little did he realize what was going on inside the Briefs household at that moment, or how much he had contributed to Trunks' happiness. He was too busy planning for the events that would come in less than a year.


	29. Just Go

* * *

A few days had gone by, and Bulma was feeling better than ever. With Trunks' appetite easier to manage, he was much more agreeable during the day and he had been sleeping all through the night. He was also crying much less frequently, which made time for her to be able to bond with her baby in a way she'd hadn't yet been able to. In fact, the whole family was enjoying the new silence and sense of peace that had once again befallen the Briefs residence. The whole family - except for Vegeta - was in the living room now, each member giggling over the baby. Bulma had laid Trunks on a blanket with some toys. She was sitting above him, trying to get him to interact with the bell she waved at him. Trunks watched the bell intently, reaching up and trying to grab at it.

"He's so observant for his age," Mr. Briefs commented.

To see Trunks in his concentration made feel Bulma as if she'd burst with joy. She was beaming from ear to ear, holding the bell _just_ far away enough that he couldn't reach it. Trunks, extending his little arms as far as he could, glared at that bell. He didn't know how to talk yet, but he understood what he wanted. He _wanted_ that bell. _He was going to get that bell!_

"Come on, Trunks," Bulma soothed. "You're doing such a good job stretching!"

Trunks wasn't sure of what his mom had just told him, but he understood her tone. As far as he was concerned, she sounded way too happy for the situation. She was _supposed_ to be sympathetic! Wasn't she supposed to be his _caretaker_? Couldn't she see how badly he wanted that bell?! "Ahh!" The baby cooed. It was his way of saying ' _Hey, grown lady! Can't you see I need help?!',_ but it only made the family erupt into a wave of adoring giggles, despite his irritated tone.

"He's so determined, just like his Daddy!" Bulma grinned, looking up to see her parents' reactions. Speaking of which, the only person missing from the room was Vegeta himself. It wasn't surprising, but remembering that he was absent still gave her stomach a sad pang. She looked back down at Trunks, refusing to let her face show her disappointment. ' _He doesn't even know what he's missing.'_ She thought. Now that she was thinking about it, she wasn't sure if she had even seen Vegeta since the night that he'd helped her solve Trunks' hunger situation. He'd retreated to the spaceship while she'd been out of the room fetching the baby, and she couldn't remember seeing him since. The realization made her stomach sink even more, but she forced herself to continue smiling down at the infant beside her. Finally she lowered the bell enough for Trunks to reach it, and he began to smack his hand against it.

 _'Vegeta..._ ' Bulma thought. ' _I wish you'd come out from that ship and face your son…'_

* * *

The ship always had its own supply of food in the refrigerator, and Vegeta had been taking advantage of it. He was chewing on some fruit when he heard the sound of someone slamming their palm against the spaceship's door. He wasn't surprised to hear her, and he didn't have to ask to know who it was. He'd sensed her ki as she had approached. Luckily for them both, Vegeta hadn't been in the middle of training when she decided to pay him a visit. He had already finished his workout for the day and was in a relatively decent mood at that point. Without saying a word he walked to the gravity machine, clicked it off, and made his way to the door.

Bulma brushed past the Saiyan as she entered, advancing into the ship and looking around. She noticed how wrinkled the bed looked, how there were free weights scattered around on the floor. Then she saw some of the food that had been left on the counter. Sure enough, he'd been completely living inside the ship. It hurt to realize that her worries were true. He'd been avoiding the family. "You've _really_ been living in here, haven't you?" Her voice came out stern, and she put her hands on her hips. The Bluehead turned to the saiyan, but he wasn't looking at her. Just as he had been doing when they'd shared dinner together a few nights before, he was avoiding eye contact. "So, all of the sudden your room inside the house isn't good enough anymore!?"

Vegeta crossed his arms. "I can't sleep in the house with _that child_ crying all the time. This ship has food, and it has a bed. It suffices for what I need." He didn't want to explain to Bulma that he was having trouble coping with the pressure that came from knowing that he was a father. He also didn't want to admit that when he was near Bulma he found the desire to embrace her almost unbearable. _When she had hugged him a few nights earlier as he ate, he'd had the hardest time controlling himself._ He'd wanted nothing more than to throw her own his shoulder and carry her out to the ship for a long night of getting reacquainted with one another! Distancing himself had been the _only_ way to ensure that he would maintain control… It seemed as if every time he'd been around Bulma lately he had trouble controlling his mind. It was hard to even look at her! When he saw her big blue eyes gazing at him, all he could think to do was to pull her close, and...

"The last time I saw you was at dinner several nights ago! Trunks hasn't been bad since then, but you wouldn't know that, would you?!" Bulma barked. The ferocity in her tone made Vegeta's eyes widen with surprise, but he still refused to look at her. As harsh as her tone was, it was shaking, and for a moment the saiyan wondered if she was going to burst into tears. Instead, Bulma let out a long sigh. "Come on, Vegeta..." She dropped her hands to her sides and began to make her way towards him. "The least you could do is _look at me_ and actually tell me what's going on. I'm not stupid!"

Finally, for what seemed like the first time in weeks, Vegeta lifted his eyes to face her. He didn't know what she was assuming, but whatever she was thinking had to be wrong. _How could she know what he was going through?_

There was a sad glint in Bulma's eyes, but she forced a smile at the saiyan who was finally looking at her. "I don't care if you go again." She breathed. Vegeta's raised his eyebrows. He'd only just decided to leave a few hours earlier. How could she have known? He must have had a questioning look on his face, because Bulma began to explain. "You're distancing yourself from everybody, acting moody, not speaking to me... You acted the same way last time you left… Like I said, I'm not stupid."

 _'Of course.'_ Vegeta smirked, feeling slightly amused. It was something he'd always found so alluring about that Bluehead - she _really_ _was_ smart. "So, the scientist is observant. Good to know."

Bulma couldn't help but to grin back. He was normally so serious and stiff, and it was hard to not feel cheered when he smiled... even if it the grin _was_ smug. It was actually relieving to see him in this way, despite how sad and frustrated she felt inside. "Like I said, I don't care if you go. We spoke about this when you came back last time, didn't we? Do whatever it is that you want, - I don't care anymore!" _That was a lie._ Bulma gulped. She actually _did_ care - she cared a _lot._ "But just tell me instead of keeping it to yourself! If you want to leave then just go, already!"

"Don't flatter yourself, woman." Vegeta crossed his arms. "I haven't been keeping anything from you. It's not as if I've been afraid to tell you about my journey, if _that's_ what you're thinking. What a _silly_ thing to be frightened of." He turned and made his way back towards the mini-kitchen, taking another piece of fruit off the counter and popping it in his mouth. "I only just decided that I would make another trip a few hours ago." He continued. "As I said, I've been focusing on my training more than ever. That's the sole reason that I've been in here. Don't fool yourself into thinking that you have _anything_ to do with it!" Part of what he'd said was true, but part of it was a lie. He gulped, furrowing his eyebrows to make sure she couldn't see it on his face. Distancing himself really _did_ have a lot to do with her…

Bulma honestly had thought that Vegeta really had been avoiding her because he didn't want to admit that he was going to leave again. What he was telling her now was news, but it made sense. Maybe she really _had_ been flattering herself to think that he was considering her feelings... _This was Vegeta she was talking to, after all_. It wasn't in his nature to do something that he didn't want to do...

...But he'd only decided to leave a couple of hours earlier? That only meant one other scenario could have been happening, and it made Bulma feel even more flattered to consider. He'd been very obviously unhappy for the last couple of weeks. If closing himself off in his ship wasn't enough of an indicator, the fact that he'd been so moody was. He'd been _that_ miserable about what was going on, but in his own way _he had been trying to tolerate it_. He'd chosen to just lock himself away in his ship to try and cope instead of immediately running off in the first place! He really had tried! Bulma couldn't help but smile to think of that. ' _Was it for me?'_ She wondered slyly. Had he stayed so long for her?

Vegeta noticed her expression, and he began to feel a bit suspicious. He had expected her to react in a much different way... why was she so cheerful? "Woman... what are you so _happy_ about?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing!" Bulma shook her head, not wanting to admit what she'd been considering. "When are you wanting to leave? I'll restock the ship before you go!" She suddenly wanted to be as supportive as possible, even if it meant she would be suffering from heartache. Perhaps with him gone it would help to soothe her own anxieties – at least _then_ he'd have an excuse for not spending more time with the bonding family…

"I'm not taking the ship." Vegeta replied, feeling even more suspicious by her sudden enthusiasm. What was going on with her?! "I don't need it, I'm just going to the other side of the planet."

 _'Jeez,'_ Bulma thought. Somehow, the other side of the planet sounded much farther away than going into space... "Okay then." She replied, forcing a shrug. "Just one thing. Go visit with your son before you leave."

Vegeta tensed at this request. "I see no need for that."

Bulma shot him a glare. "I'm _going_ to mend your suit before you go – the least you can do is visit with your _son_ in the meantime! Gah, Vegeta! Just _look_ at you! You're covered in shreds!"

His jaw tightened as the Earth Woman lectured him. Indeed, his saiyan garb was completely ripped up. He'd been working himself harder by the day, enduring self-inflicted blasts and punches from his training robots, and with not wanting to speak to the Woman he had neglected in seeing that the consequential rips in his suit were being patched. He hadn't put much thought on how battered he must have appeared – he'd grown used to it.

"Bring me all of your tattered clothes and I'll fix them..." Bulma said, heading out of the ship. "…Until then, _maybe_ you should consider visiting with your son! I mean it!"

* * *

Several hours later Bulma was sitting on her bed, her back leaned against the headboard, holding Trunks with his back reclined against her knees so that he could face her. She had finished patching Vegeta's clothes much earlier – it didn't take her long. But she hadn't taken them to him, she wanted him to come and find her. "Do you have your Daddy's nose?" Bulma cooed to her baby. She amazed by everything about him as she watched in awe - the way Trunks stared at her in complete concentration when she spoke to him, watching her lips to figure out how they worked... The way he'd grab her finger and squeeze it, trying to understand what its purpose was. The way his _tail_ swayed when he seemed to get excited.

 _That tail..._ Bulma had completely forgotten about a Saiyan's tail. Neither Vegeta, Gohan, nor Goku had tails anymore, so she simply hadn't thought of the possibility that her son, a half saiyan, might be born with one. The tail was something that worried her. She knew what could happen when a saiyan had his tail...

"Gahooo," Trunks cooed thoughtfully, looking down at his own fingers and practicing the act of stretching them. His tail began to sway a little bit faster with his determination.

"That's _right_ Trunks, _gahoo_!" Bulma beamed at hearing her son's voice. "You wouldn't ever turn into a giant ape and attack Mommy, now would you?"

Trunks looked up at Bulma for a moment. His mouth dropped open as if such a thought had never occurred to him, and he was now considering her words. It was only a few seconds later, though, that the baby focused on something behind his mother and cooed once again. The Bluehead turned to see what the baby was looking at, and her smile grew even wider. "Vegeta!" She said, unable to fight back the joy she was overcome with in seeing him standing in the doorway.

The saiyan had his arms crossed with obvious irritation. "I've come to check up on the progress of my suit, and you're here fiddling around with the boy."

"Don't worry! It's all ready for you! I finished your suit hours ago." Bulma shrugged. "I was waiting for you to come and get it! What - I never said I would _bring_ it to you when I was done!"

Trunks stuck his fingers into his mouth and mumbled an incoherent sentence of baby babble, a line of drool beginning to drip from his jaw. Bulma turned back to the baby and squealed. "That's _right,_ Trunks! Daddy really _is_ moody!"

 _Daddy_.

The word alone was enough to make Vegeta grimace, but he quickly shrugged it off. He just needed to obtain what he'd come for, and then he'd get the hell _out_ of there! He scanned over Bulma's room before laying eyes on his clothes, which had been folded and left of the scientist's desk. Grunting under his breath, he walked across the room and grabbed the pile. The woman had planned this. She had _made_ him go searching for her so that he'd have to see the boy, and it had cost him precious time that he could have spent on his journey. He turned, holding his suit in his arms, and let his eyes fall back on Bulma and Trunks. They were still reclining on her bed, the mother smiling down at her baby and looking… well, _incredibly cute_... That bright gleam in her eyes that always appeared when she smiled never ceased to amaze him, and he couldn't help but to find the image _alluring…_ He was irritated, but still... _They were his kin_. "I'm going to be leaving soon." He said, advancing towards his woman.

The smile didn't drop from Bulma's face. She turned and laid Trunks down on the mattress beside her. At this point Vegeta was now standing above her, looking down at them both. He placed a hand on Bulma's head affectionately. "I wont be gone for too long," He continued. "Perhaps a week or two."

All she offered in response was a simple nod. She wanted to believe him, but something inside warned her that it might be a lie. Hell, _he_ might not even know it was a lie, but there really was no telling how long he'd truly be gone for… He wasn't exactly the best at keeping track of time when he was in one of his training moods. "However long you take, you'll come see me before fighting the Androids, right?" Her voice shook. She suddenly realized that she was almost crying. The feeling of his hand had done it for her. The thought that he might not return at all.

"I said that I won't be gone for long. Of course I'll be back before the Androids."

Bulma looked up at the saiyan, taking hold of his hand. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. It was all suddenly hitting her. She was terrified that he was going to forget about her the way he seemed to when he had gone into space. She was terrified of that hopeless, lonely feeling that she had experienced before. She didn't want it to come back. She didn't want the dreadful sense of abandonment to rise once again.

Vegeta was trying his best to remain detached from the situation, but he didn't like to see the look on her face. Only a few moments ago she had appeared as if nothing could ever bother her, and now she looked as if all she had to look forward to was woe. She was normally so strong - it was rare to see her this distraught. He didn't like it! He wanted to see her smile – to see those blue orbs shine just as they had been seconds earlier… He wanted to see her happy... The next thing he knew, he had clasped both hands on her shoulders and leaned down, inching towards her face.

When his lips brushed across hers Bulma closed her eyes. The feeling was more than comforting – it was _right_. The warmth that radiated from his lips as he embraced her, the energy she felt sparking within his hands seemed to wipe the tears from her eyes. She grabbed at his face, holding him as tight as she could, wanting to feel as close as possible. Vegeta seemed to like her response, because he began to press his lips deeper into her own. Breathing heavily through his nose, he found himself sinking onto his knees to be face-level with the woman before him, pulling her as close as possible. One of his hands stretched from her shoulder to the back of her head, holding her in place as his tongue drifted into her mouth.

Grabbed at the collar of his shirt with one hand, the palm of her other hand rotating over his chest, Bulma let out a deep breath of air through her nose. She wanted to memorize every crease of muscle on his body – just in case she never felt it again. She wanted to know _every_ little part of him...

The feeling was starting to become too much for Vegeta as he suckled her lower lip. Now all he could think about was how badly his fingers ached to explore her flesh, to push her onto her back, pull down her tiny pair of shorts, and…

" **BWAAAH**!"

Bulma and Vegeta jumped, suddenly sobered back to reality. The couple opened their eyes, both instantly turning to the source of the sudden noise. Trunks was laying on his back, his legs kicking at the air as he happily cooed.

Rising back to his feet, Vegeta stepped back, suddenly feeling clammy. That had been close. That had been _too_ _close_! If it wasn't for the boy's interruption, he was sure that he would have lost control of himself again. He'd been trying so hard to be strong - to keep his mind over matter. He was a fighter, after all! He was the prince of all saiyans! The strongest warrior in the galaxy! It was below him to lose control over his own actions so easily! He hadn't even been able to control himself - not even in front of his own son!

Bulma's cheeks were flushed, and she was still catching her breath. She looked back up at Vegeta, but he had already begun making his way for the door.

"It's getting late. I have to go!" He snapped over his shoulder.

"Wait!" Bulma replied, jumping from the bed. "It's late. Maybe you should stay the night! You can leave first thing in the morning!"

Vegeta paused, his body tensing from this offer. For a moment he considered her suggestion, but he quickly shook his head. _That would be too dangerous_. There was _no_ way he could stay another night, not with the battle going on in his own body. If he spent one more _minute_ in this building he was at risk of losing himself to instincts once again! Neither of them needed that to happen. "I'll be back soon enough." He barked, resuming on his path towards the door. He didn't even look at her. He couldn't. He just _had_ to get out of there!

She was struck with the urge to chase after him as he disappeared into the hall. But it was no use – Bulma had known fully well that he'd been planning to leave, and begging him to stay would only make things more complicated. With a sad sigh she ran a hand through her hair, sinking back onto the bed. _What would the use of chasing after him be?_ He had already made up his mind.

As she listened to his footsteps race downstairs and out the front door, she felt a heavy lump quivering through her core with the threat of a sob. "I need a shower." She muttered, feeling incredibly sweaty from that kiss alone.

 _'You'd better come back, Vegeta...'_ Bulma thought, turning back to baby Trunks and watching his little face. ' _If you don't, I'll go looking for you myself.'_


	30. Yamcha Meets Trunks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! Here's the last chapter of the night!

* * *

Despite her worries about Vegeta slipping into one of his timeless zones, memories of the last kiss that the couple shared had slowly morphed her concerns into impatience to see him once again. As much as she missed his presence, thinking back on the embrace they had just before his departure gave Bulma a comforting sense of closure that stayed with her for days. Sure, he'd been distant for a couple of weeks before leaving, but she missed him nevertheless. And the way he had held her so passionately was reassurance to Bulma that he truly _would_ come back. For a few days she had sat around the house, doing little more than playing with Trunks to make the time go by, but it didn't take long for her to grow bored. The Bluehead decided that she needed to find other things to do to clear her mind. Perhaps trying to get back in to shape would be just what she needed to channel her energy...

"One more set." The young mother gasped. She was laying on her back in the grass, pressing a couple of small hand weights above her chest. Beside her was little Trunks on a blanket. Sprawled on his stomach, the baby was groaning stubbornly as he practiced trying to holding his body up with his tiny arms, in an exercise that Bulma had referred to as " _tummy time"_. She heard the slamming of the back door, an indicator that someone was joining them. The new mother, still catching her breath, threw her weights down beside her. "Oh, hey Yamcha!" She called, sitting up and squinting through the sun.

Yamcha was making his way across the yard. The last time he'd seen Bulma had been really tense, to say the least. Back then he had been walking through the house to leave after the fight between them, when he heard Vegeta in the other room. " _Blonde woman! Your daughter needs your attention this **instant**!_ " The vicious saiyan had yelled. "Oh my, is everythin' alright?!" Mrs. Briefs replied, and the sound of footsteps racing up the stairs quickly replaced their voices. Yamcha hadn't gone up to check on Bulma, though. He'd been too angry. In fact, it wasn't until a few weeks later that he'd given her a quick call to ask if everything was alright. It was no surprise to him when she'd told him that she'd given birth, and that she was too tired to want to talk. He hadn't heard from her since.

So, it did catch him off guard when Bulma had called him that morning and asked him to visit her. Yamcha didn't know why he'd agreed to do so, but he had. And now he was standing in the Briefs' backyard once again, looking at his ex-girlfriend's baby. The baby looked _just_ like Vegeta, and he hadn't been prepared for that. His eyes were fixated on Trunks, a scowl on his face. "Well, I guess there's _no_ question about it... he's _Vegeta's_ , alright..."

Bulma turned to the baby, thinking that the Z-Fighter had been referring to his tail, which was now flicking in the air. Trunks was quivering as he continued trying to push himself up with his hands, but his attempts were in vain. "Bah!" He growled, as if in warning that he would burst into tears at any second. Bulma had been so caught up in her own workout that she had almost forgotten about him beside her. "Good job, little man!" She scooped the baby up into her arms. "You'll be as strong as Daddy in no time!"

 _'Daddy_?' Yamcha thought bitterly.

It was almost as if Trunks could sense what the Z fighter was thinking, because the infant quickly turned his head and shot him a stern look. As a result Yamcha was overcome with a sense of deja-vu... that was the same exact same scowl that the _scumbag_ would give him... To say he was uncomfortable would be an understatement. "Why are you out here exercising, anyway? Aren't you supposed to, like, rest after giving birth?" Yamcha broke eye contact with the baby to look at Bulma, not wanting to think any more about Vegeta actually being someone's _father_.

"That was months ago!" Bulma pursed her lips. She'd gone through pregnancy and given birth, which had resulted in her body changing size and shape. She was self-conscious and not used to her new _rolls_ , and she wanted to do all she could to start feeling comfortable in her skin again. Yamcha wouldn't understand how it felt. _He'd_ never given birth! "Exercise is good for you, isn't it?" She finally said. "Nevermind that, let's go inside!"

* * *

"I don't think he likes me that much. What did you tell him about me?"

Little Trunks was propped up against a pillow, his mother standing over him and waving a stuffed turtle near his face. She had been cooing at him, trying to get the boy to smile. He didn't seem to notice, though. Instead of grabbing for the toy, the baby was fixated on Yamcha. He didn't make a sound as he watched the strange man with obvious suspicion.

"You think I sit around talking to him about _you_ all day? Jeez, get over yourself!" Bulma replied. The attempt at amicability wasn't quite as successful as she had been hoping. Yamcha had been the only friend of hers to know about Trunks, and it was disappointing that he didn't seem as thrilled with the baby as she was.

"That was obviously a joke..." Yamcha found himself stuck in some strange kind of staring match with the infant, and he just couldn't bring himself to look away. The baby was watching him the same way that _evil saiyan_ did, and he didn't like it. Yamcha could feel the hatred for Vegeta rising up within, even as he looked into this innocent child's face. He knew it was silly to let a baby make him feel that way, but he still hadn't come to terms with the idea of Bulma and Vegeta being together. And the way Trunks looked at him with _those eyes_ did nothing but remind him of it.

"Well, come on! What kind of thing is that to say to someone right after you meet their kid?!" Bulma said.

Trunks hadn't moved his eyes from Yamcha for even a second – it was as if he were trying to intimidate him! The gleam in his eyes was so _arrogant_ –the same smug scowl that Vegeta looked at everyone with. The last time he had seen Vegeta look at him like that was when Bulma was still pregnant, and his arms had been wrapped around her waist...

Suddenly Yamcha was in a _very_ bad mood.

 _'I can't believe she's still so loyal to that creep!'_ He thought, his mouth suddenly dry. It was hard not to be bitter. What this child represented was nothing less than a slap in the face. The only way Trunks was even _there_ in the first place was because Vegeta and Bulma had...

… A lump was making its way up Yamcha's throat, and he gulped it down. He was not happy with the thought of his ex-girlfriend in bed with the man he hated so much.

" _Hello_?" Bulma's voice snapped him out of his trance, but it did nothing to help with his mood. "Don't you have anything else to say about him?!" Her tone rising irritably.

The Z-Fighter scowled at his ex-girlfriend. "I'd like to know why you invited me here!" He responded, own his voice rising now. As soon as he said it he knew that it was uncalled for, but he couldn't help it. She should have known better than to invite him to her house to flaunt the baby she made with _another man_.

Bulma raised her eyebrows. She didn't like the way he'd been looking at her son, or the way he'd been been speaking in general. But _this_ was too much. "I invited you because I thought you'd want to meet Trunks instead of acting like an idiot!"

"I'm not an idiot!" Yamcha yelled.

Trunks began to howl. He didn't know who this guy was, but he didn't like him. That creepy man didn't even look _tough_ , and now he was yelling at his mommy? He needed to go! "Look, now you've upset Trunks!" Bulma scooped the crying infant up from the bed and began bouncing him in her arms. "Look sweetie, see the turtle? Don't cry! Did the mean man scare you?"

The Z-Fighter was now taking in a deep breath, attempting to calm himself down. He was still feeling livid, but hearing Trunks' cries made him realize just how irrational he had been acting. Trunks wasn't a clone of Vegeta - he was just a _baby!_

"I thought you could be an _adult_ , but I guess I was wrong." Bulma said. Her attempts to soothe Trunks seemed to be working, because his sobs were fading with each passing second.

Slowly Yamcha began to step towards her, avoiding eye contact. Bulma watched him approach, her hand caressing the top of her son's head. When the Z-Fighter was close enough he held his arms out. "Okay, okay..." He said, more to himself than to the woman before him. He gave her a quick and insincere hug, and then stepped back. "I'm sorry." His voice was stiff, and he was still avoiding her eyes. "I know I shouldn't yell. I get that you want me to be happy for you and all, but I'm not there yet."

It was then that Trunks let out a growl of warning. He didn't like how close _that man_ was to him. That man needed to just go away!

"I think it would be best if I go. I need more time to get used to the idea of all this." Yamcha patted Trunks on the head in a forced attempt at good-will. Trunks glared. Bulma understood, instantly feeling foolish. She didn't feel quite ready to tell everyone else about what she and Vegeta had done, and Yamcha had been the only person who knew. Perhaps she'd been blinded by her loneliness when she'd invited him over, but she just wanted someone to talk to... "You're right," She said, unsure of which was worse. Was is how foolish she felt, or was is the isolation? "It's just that... you're the only one who knows..."

The sound in her voice was one that Yamcha recognized. He'd heard it several times during fights they had when they were still a couple. ' _Even broken up, I still manage to make her cry._ ' He thought, taking a deep breath. "Look, I'm a guy. Guys don't really do well with kids." Yamcha said, as if that explained everything. He stepped closer and placed his hand on the back of her shoulder. He began to walk her to her bed.

 _'You could say that again...'_ Bulma thought, thinking back on how Vegeta had reacted to Trunks. The Z-Fighter gave her a light push, sitting them both down on the mattress. His hand was still placed softly on her back. He felt awkward, not used to trying to comfort her in a platonic way. "Maybe you should tell Goku or someone."

"Ehhh!" Trunks moaned. He'd just wanted the man to go away, and now he was closer to him than ever! This was going horribly wrong!

"I don't want to tell anyone else – we're going to see them in a few months. I want it to be a surprise." Bulma looked down at her lap, setting Trunks on the floor with the stuffed turtle. For some reason Yamcha's attempts at comforting her only made her think of Vegeta, and she was feeling worse instead of better. She wished it was _him_ sitting with her instead – not _this_ man! She missed Vegeta's face, the way he smelled when she was close to him. The way his lips felt when they'd kissed just before he left. Yet on top of the good memories, she was also reminded of his flaws. Yamcha had suddenly acted so sympathetic to her when she's been fighting back her tears. _Why was it so hard for Vegeta to do that?_ At times Vegeta seemed to act as if he cared, but he would push her away just as soon as he'd gotten close. Why couldn't _he_ let down his walls the way Yamcha could? She hadn't realized how empty and frustrated she was with his absence until that moment. Perhaps she had been distracting herself by trying to get back in shape. Perhaps she had been too hopeful after their last embrace. All of the sudden reality was suddenly coming down on her, and it wasn't a good feeling at all. She wanted Vegeta, but she wanted him without all of his walls that he'd built up...

"Are you okay?" Yamcha's voice broke her thoughts. She looked up, her cheeks feeling cold from the tears that had fallen and were now drying on her skin. On the floor Trunks was now shaking the stuffed turtle violently, oblivious to his mother's woes. Bulma quickly wiped at her face with her arm, afraid that if she looked at Yamcha she would _really_ cry.

 _There was no doubt_ that she was crying over _Him_ , and as the Z-Fighter thought this he had to gulp down another bitter lump. It was unlike Bulma to sob like this. Even during the fights they'd had together when they were dating, she'd never looked so sad when she sobbed. So utterly broken and lost. Vegeta should be the one sitting with her now, shouldn't he?! Where _was_ he, anyway?! Even if Yamcha was mad at Bulma for picking _him_ to have a kid with, he felt sorry for her. _Vegeta_ was nothing more than an arrogant _coward!_ He'd warned Bulma that the guy couldn't be counted on. He'd told her that Vegeta couldn't be trusted, and yet she still hadn't listened. That monster had gotten her pregnant, and then abandoned her, and she didn't deserve that. Yamcha decided that the next time he saw Vegeta he'd make sure to let him know how he felt.

There would be hell to pay.

…

A few hours later the Z-Fighter was gone, and Bulma was back on her bed, flipping through a magazine. In the other room Trunks was fast asleep in his crib, dreaming of a butterfly he'd encountered a few days earlier. In his dream he'd been trying to catch the insect, but wasn't able to reach it as it flew away. Trunks watched as the butterfly disappeared into the sky, thinking ' _someday I'll be able to do that too!'_

Turning the page of the magazine, Bulma was attempting to distract herself from the isolation she was still feeling. It was then that her eyes came across an advertisement. The advertisement was a picture of two women standing together, presumably friends. They were hovering over a toddler, who was covered in paint. It seemed that the toddler had just finished some art project and had crawled onto the white rug without understanding the consequences. In text the advertisement read "THE EASIEST TO CLEAN". Bulma wasn't sure what the image was supposed to be advertising – _was it was the rug, the paint, or the clothes that the models were wearing?_ Nevertheless, for some reason the picture flipped a switch in her head. Looking at the way the models stood over the child, giving each other an understanding look, made her think.

"Maybe Yamcha's right," Bulma said. "I need someone who _gets_ it. I need to make friends with another mom."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! I hope you enjoyed!  
> Are you as frustrated as I am with these two?! Vegeta and Bulma are just so stubborn! I just want to shake them!
> 
> Only nine more chapters! Let's see if I can get the rest posted by the end of the week! Please keep in mind that there is another story after this one, which takes off right after Cell's defeat. That one will be even longer than this one is!


	31. A Day Off

* * *

" _She probably thinks she's better than us._ "

The words were a slap in the face for the Bluehead, and she closed her eyes to ward off the sting. It wasn't the phrase itself that bothered her, but it was the underlying tone. A tone she heard often when someone was speaking about her. No, it was unusual for Bulma to be spoken _to._ But to be spoken _of?_ Well, that was another thing.

It was lunch time, and she was sitting alone yet again as she quietly picked at the pork buns that her mother had packed. Nobody ever sat with her - nobody ever tried to get to know her. In fact, Bulma really didn't have _any_ friends.

Not a single one.

Not that she cared _too_ much. _Why would she want to be friends with people who thought she was weird simply because of who her father was?_ The eight-year old closed her bento box and stood from the table. She began to make her way across the room, passing by her classmates that weren't trying to hide the fact that they were gossiping about her.

" _Did you see her Dad on TV last night? Mommy told me he's crazy!_ "

" _That explains why she doesn't talk to anyone. Not only is she stuck up, but she's probably crazy, too! I'll bet she's dangerous!_ "

Little Bulma's eyebrows furrowed at hearing this, but she bit her lip instead of saying something back. This hadn't been the first time she'd overheard her classmates making fun of her, and she'd learned from previous encounters that arguing was futile. The teachers always seemed to side with the other students, thinking that Bulma was spoiled and overreacting. Not wanting to be sent out in the hall to carry water buckets again, the eight-year looked straight ahead and continued to make her way towards the bathroom.

The consensus of her classmates didn't change.

It was later in the day now, and the children were walking outside after school had ended. Bulma clutched her knapsack and bit the inside of her cheek as she listened to her classmates discuss their afternoon plans.

" _Everyone's going to the park for a game of kickball! You coming?!_ "

" _Sounds fun!_ "

 _Everyone_ was going to the park? Well, if _everyone_ was going, then why hadn't anybody asked Bulma to join? Perhaps it would have felt good to be included, but she couldn't think such a thing with confidence. She'd _never_ been included – she didn't know what the feeling would be like at all! _'Who cares?'_ Little Bulma thought again, stomping her feet harder as she sped towards the intersection where her mother would be waiting to pick her up. Her protective parents were always reluctant to let her walk home alone. Bulma didn't understand why at the time. _All_ of the other students were free to go home all by themselves after school, but that wasn't the case for her. It was another thing the students would mock her for, saying she was such a baby to have to be escorted by her parents.

… It wasn't until Bulma grew to be an adult, and learned in retrospect that it was because of her parents' notoriety in the city that they worried for her safety...

"Hi sweetie, how was school today?" A considerably younger looking Mrs. Briefs asked, taking her daughters hand.

"You always ask me this," Little Bulma scowled. "How do you _think_ it was? I don't want to go back, Mom! I _hate_ it there!"

"My, aren't you grumpy? Let's get home and get ya somethin' to eat!" Mrs. Briefs' soft hand gave her daughter's an assuring squeeze. Little Bulma's heart began to fill with a familiar warmth. The idea of sinking into her living room's couch was a comforting image that she was suddenly more than excited for. She looked up at the blonde woman standing above her, fighting back a smile. It was hard not to feel comforted by her mother's carefree aura.

 _'Who cares what everyone thinks about my family.'_ She thought. ' _I don't **need** any of them!'_

This was something that the eight-year old told herself on a daily basis. On some days she was able to believe it with more confidence than others, yet she couldn't understand why there was still a sinking pain in the pit of her stomach. Sometimes welling into anger - she vowed to accomplish great things and make all those students regret making fun of her! At other times, the pain just manifested into sadness, motivating the Bluehead to bury her nose in a book and escape reality as she studied mechanical equations.

Regardless of how she chose to handle the ostracizing that she had to encounter on a daily basis, Bulma always promised herself that she _didn't care,_ and she did her best to live by that mantra. There was only one thing wrong with that statment, though...

_… If she didn't care, then why did she feel so _lonely_?_

* * *

Bulma sat up in bed, a cold sweat dripping down the side of her face, her heart pounding in her ears.

_What the...?_

She looked around, gaining her bearings. It was then that she recognized familiar sounds coming from Trunks' nursery. ' _What an awful dream!' S_ he thought, throwing her blanket off. It didn't take any time at all for her to jump from bed and pull on her robe. Her hair was a mess and her eyes were still puffy from her sleep, but she was too preoccupied to care. This was all just a part of her new routine. She made her way into the baby's room and picked him up from the crib as he sobbed. In a swift motion she pulled one of her breasts out and popped it into his mouth.

_Routine._

Trunks hungrily sucked at her as she made her way downstairs, balancing the child in one arm. She clicked on the kitchen light, the baby still eagerly drinking away. As soon as Trunks had sucked the last drop of milk from her bosom, she popped another nipple into his mouth. This time, the nipple was attached to a familiar bottle that was filled with her "mashed surprise". The baby held the bottle in his tiny hands as he suckled. As far as he was concerned, the milk was simply an _'appetizer'_. But _this_ stuff – the stuff in the glass bottle – now, _that_ was what he needed! He let out a happy sigh, his stomach warming as it filled with ounces of heavy mushy goo. Bulma smiled down at him. She knew that her milk was practically useless for the baby. Yet, despite this fact, she just couldn't bring herself to give up on breastfeeding. Perhaps it really did nothing for the child, but Bulma was too stuck in traditional _human_ ways. She was convinced that it would be a nutritional disservice to the baby. And, truth be told, she rather enjoyed the bonding experience that came with feeding her child so intimately.

He was now six months old, and like any other infant his age he struggled with both needing constant attention and wishing to be more independent. The doting mother carried her child into the living room and placed him on the rug. "Be good. I'll be right back." She said, walking back into the kitchen to make herself a quick breakfast. The baby watched his mother leave the room, the bottle still in his mouth and he clung to it protectively.

Walking seemed like such an amazing ability to the boy. _'Someday I'm going to do that, too.'_ He thought, eying his mother's legs as they moved so confidently. It was then that he suddenly realized he'd been left all alone. Forgetting about his food, Trunks pulled the bottle out of his mouth and dropped it to his side. He sat up to have a look around, a coy smile forming at his lips. The act of sitting was a new skill he'd recently learned, but he wasn't satisfied with it. He was bored with practicing the art of sitting up. He needed to learn something new!

His eyes began to scan the room for something to play with...

…

In the kitchen Bulma was preparing a pot of tea while trying to decide on what she wanted to cook. She could hear footsteps approaching from behind.

"Good Morning, sweetheart!"

Bulma looked up and gave her mother a smile. "You're awake already?" The sun wasn't even up yet. Stifling a reluctant yawn, Mrs. Briefs was opening the refrigerator and pulling ingredients out. She didn't want to make Bulma feel guilty by admitting that Trunks had woken her up, so instead she changed the subject. "How does Tamagoyaki sound for breakfast this mornin', dear?"

It was then that a loud crash could be heard coming from the living room. It sounded as if glass had broken. The two mothers gave each other a knowing look.

_Trunks!_

"Oh, no!" Bulma gasped as they bolted for the door. In the living room Trunks was using the coffee table to hold himself up as he practiced standing. He had spotted Mrs. Briefs' cherished blue vase, and he'd decided it would make a _great_ toy. So the baby had crawled to the table, propped himself up, and reached for it. The fact that the vase was heavy didn't deter Trunks away. Rather, he took it as a challenge. The baby decided that if he couldn't carry the vase, he'd simply set it on the floor. So, with determination, he grasped the porcelain and pulled it across the table's surface. It had taken him a while to maneuver it all the way to the table's edge. And how unfortunate he found it when the vase had shattered into pieces when it landed on the floor! _That_ wasn't supposed to happen! _What would Trunks play with now?_

"Oh, Trunks!"

The baby looked up to see both his mother and his grandmother standing in the room. The looks on their faces told him one thing – he'd done something _bad_. _But he hadn't meant to!_ He'd only wanted to play! Little Trunks' mind raced as he considered his options on how to handle the situation. He didn't like the look on his mom's face. Her eyes were wide with an expression that made him feel as if he'd let her down. He much preferred when she was cuddling him, smiling at him, babbling in that funny voice she sometimes used! Finally, it hit him. A nice, long sob! Now, _that_ would win her sympathy! Surely she would cuddle him if he cried! So, after taking a few deep breaths to prepare himself, the baby opened his mouth and let out an exaggerated wail.

"Are you hurt?!" Bulma gasped, running to scoop the baby into her arms.

Mrs. Briefs' heart was breaking at she eyed the remains of her beloved vase. Perhaps it had been foolish to leave such a cherished item in proximity of a baby's curious hands. But she'd _really_ loved that vase!

"Oh, Trunks. Now, why did you do that?" Bulma was saying, relieved that the baby had no cuts or scrapes from the shattered pieces he had been standing over.

Mrs. Briefs listened as her daughter comforted the child, feeling somewhat frustrated that the baby wasn't yet old enough to discipline when he'd done something wrong. She was attempting to find patience in the situation, but she was having a rather hard time. "Bulma, dear... You've been talking about taking Trunks to that story-time event at the Learning Center for quite a while, now. Don't ya think it's time he finally got out of the house?"

It was with this that the Bluehead's stomach dropped, and she turned away to hide her reaction. "I don't know..." She replied. The truth was, she hadn't left the house with Trunks at all since he'd been born. She'd become somewhat of a hermit, only wanting to stay home and coddle her son while trying to fill the void of a man who was missing from her life. It was hard not to feel anxious at the idea of going out with Trunks for the first time... Aside from that, after her episode with Yamcha she hadn't even attempted to socialize with anyone.

She'd humored the idea of taking Trunks to story-time events in order to interact with the other mothers, but it felt, well... weird. Having grown used to her group of friends consisting of the Z-Fighters, the idea of trying to build relationships with regular people just seemed _so_ foreign...

"It'll be good for ya both, don't you think?" Mrs. Briefs continued, her tone now sounding less than cheerful.

Bulma gulped. She knew her mother was right, but she still didn't feel at ease with it. "Maybe tomorrow?" She offered, unable to think of a good excuse. And there was no use in arguing, anyway. The Bluehead could tell by Mrs. Brief's voice. It wasn't often that her mother sounded so stern, but when she did there was no changing her mind.

A shaking hand was placed on Bulma's tense shoulder, and Mrs. Briefs took in a deep breath in order to keep her voice calm. "Dear, I don't know how else to put this, so I'm just going to say it. Your father and I could use a day off. Now, I'm going to cook us some breakfast, and I want _you_ to get yourself ready to go out."

* * *

Out.

It had been so _long_ since she'd gone _out._ Bulma was rubbing makeup onto her face, trying to get herself excited the impending day. She thought back to how lonely she felt when Yamcha had visited her. She'd been motivated back then to go out and meet people, but now she was feeling the complete opposite. The truth was, she didn't think she'd be able to find much to relate to anyone else with. As lonely and isolated as she felt each day, the idea of interacting with a bunch of normal humans who didn't even understand what _true adventure_ meant somehow made her feel even worse. But, more than anything, she was much more worried about her son.

The blue-haired beauty gave herself one last look in the mirror and forced a smile at the reflection. "Okay," She breathed. "You can do this." With that she turned to Baby Trunks, who had been laying on his back with his feet in the air, and was currently rocking from side to side.

It was hard not to feel nervous as she watched that _tail_ slowly swing back and forth.

When Bulma was growing up, her parents never seemed to understand the troubles she faced as the daughter of a scientist who was well-known for having deviant views on the technological world. When she was a girl and would complain to her parents about her classmates shunning her at school, sometimes going as far as to gang up on her with their fists, they would simply tell her not to take it to heart.

 _Right - d_ on't take it to heart! It was easy enough to _say_ that other people's opinions came from a place of ignorance! Her parents, not understanding what growing up for her was like, didn't seem to care. Not taking her classmate's actions to heart was easier said than done. Mr. and Mrs. Briefs may not have _understood_ how hard it was to grow up as an outsider because of her family background, but _Bulma did_. And, while she hardly cared about her past at all as an adult, she couldn't deny the fact that as a child it had really _sucked!_

 _And Trunks_... well, on top of the family he'd been born into, _Trunks_ was sporting a _tail._

The tail had worried Bulma on and off from the start because of the risks that came with it. The idea of her baby forming into a giant ape was scary enough. Yet now it was providing her with an entirely _new_ set of worries. Feeling unique as an adult gave Bulma such an amazing sense of esteem that she couldn't even begin put words to. The things she'd seen and experienced in her life were unlike anything she could explain to an average person, and she felt rather superior to most of her fellow Earth inhabitants. But, as a kid, it was a completely different world. _Bulma knew how it felt to grow up feeling "different"._ Rather than enjoying all of the carefree activities that made up a typical childhood, Bulma had spent the majority of hers desperately waiting to just _grow up._

She didn't want the same for _him._ _He didn't deserve it._ He had been born into anything _but_ normal. And all Bulma wanted for her son was for him to have as normal of a childhood as possible, considering his extraordinary circumstances.

Her mind slowly began to gloss over all of the rude nicknames that Trunks could be given because of both his family _and_ his physical _attribute._ A new worry came to mind – forget the names! Trunks would be strong, and fully capable of defending himself. But what if some young bully wrapped his fingers around Trunks' tail and gave it a big yank? What if his tail was the thing that inhibited him from being able to defend himself?!

"No!" Bulma gasped, forcing the images from her mind. "There's nothing wrong with you for having a tail, son!"

She scooped the baby into her arms and gave him a warm smile. "Just because kids were jerks to me growing up _doesn't_ mean they'll be the same to you! People aren't as closed minded as they used to be. The Briefs name is a _respected_ name! And there's _nothing_ wrong with having a tail! Nobody will use it against you!"

Trunks let out a happy coo.

"We're _going_ to go. And we're _going_ to have fun! Got it, baby boy?!"

There was still a lump in her stomach, but as soon as she spoke the words she felt its gravity lessen. She needed to go into this with a positive outlook, because there was absolutely no guarantee that Trunks would be met with the same treatment she'd received so long ago. Bulma gave herself another look in the mirror, this time with a smile that was much more _genuine_. Trunks would enjoy interacting with other young children. It was up to her to teach him about being social and the importance of making friends. It was up to her to teach him not to care what others thought.

"Alright. Let's do this."

With that, she began to make her way downstairs.


	32. The Learning Center

* * *

The Learning Center was a small rounded building, constructed with light pink tile and round wooden doors. It had a welcoming sign in multicolored letters, and on the door was a bell that rang when someone entered. The center was already packed with women of all shapes and sizes, standing around and mingling with one another as they eagerly waited for the event to start. They had already formed into multiple small groups, all of whom were presumably friends and had known each other for quite some time. The chatter was loud and mixed as the conversations intercepted with each other, a cocktail of various topics ranging from the date one lady had with her husband the night before, to how frustrating it was to clean spit-up stains out of baby clothes. A couple of the ladies were in the middle of discussing the eating schedule of their toddlers when they heard the bell on the door ringing as another person stepped into the building. Ready to gossip, the curious housewives looked up to see who was coming inside.

As she walked through the door Bulma was instantly hit with the overwhelming feeling that she was being watched. She looked around to see the numerous cliques of mothers, each huddling together and chatting with one another. Nobody seemed to be particularly looking _at_ her, but some how she couldn't help but feel as if they were inspecting every move she made. ' _Maybe I'm just being paranoid.'_ She thought, taking in the rest of the room. The pastel walls were lined with shelves of both books and toys. In the center of the room was an enormous multicolored rug. A couple of meters away from her was the sign-in desk, equipped with a tired looking attendant sitting behind it. Bulma readjusted Trunks in her arms and began to make her way to the desk.

"You're here for Story Time?" The attendant asked, sounding chipper despite her fatigue. The tone of her voice made Bulma feel a little better, and she gave the attendant a warm smile. "I sure am! The name is Briefs – Bulma Briefs!"

The attendant looked down at the clip board in front of her, skimming through the list of names. "Let's see, Briefs... Briefs... Briefs... Oh! Here we go!" She checked the name off of the list and grabbed a marker to prepare a name tag. "It looks like this is your first time here! How exciting!" The attendant said, scribbling Bulma's name on the tag. It was when the worker looked up to hand the tag over that she seemed to notice the baby for the first time. "And _you_ must be little Trun- _oh_!" The smile instantly dropped from the lady's face. "What is _that?!_ "

Bulma had been watching the attendant's eyes, and she knew exactly what she'd been referring to. "Hm," Bulma replied. She adjusted the baby in her arms again, taking in a deep breath. "Trunks was born with a tail." The baby had been clutching Bulma's shirt and was looking over her shoulder at the room around him. His tail had been slowly swaying with eager curiosity as he eyed a particularly colorful set of blocks.

"It's... _furry_..." The attendant said bluntly, her voice shaking slightly as if she were fighting back a gag. A bead of sweat was beginning to form at her forehead. "...And... oh my, it's _moving_..."

Bulma bit her lip, looking down at her son. She'd never encountered a situation like this before, and she wasn't sure how to respond. If it had been _her_ that the attendant was describing in such a way, the Bluehead would have responded with snippy retort! But she also didn't want to create a scene that could potentially upset her son. "He..." She offered, searching for words. "I..."

"Go find yourself a seat." The attendant interrupted, saving Bulma from how dumbfounded she felt. The lady broke eye contact, thrusting a nametag at Bulma and then turning back to her list of names. "Have... _fun_." The statement came out completely forced, but Bulma was eager enough to walk away from the situation.

Taking deep breaths to ward off how offended she was, and once again feeling as if all eyes were on her, the blue-haired mother placed a kiss on her baby's head. She began to make her way to an empty chair that was spotted in a corner. As she went, she walked by a small group of women who had been speaking to one another. She noticed how their conversation paused abruptly as she passed, presumably so they could watch her go.

 _'Really?'_ Bulma thought, listening to the women resume their conversation, now whispering to one another instead. She had no doubts they were now talking about her. ' _At least **my** boy could save the world one day if he had to!' _ She thought with a scowl. _'What will **their** kids accomplish?!'_

It felt like hours that Bulma sat alone, bouncing Trunks on her lap as he excitedly continued to observe his surroundings. There were so many people and so many colors! The baby couldn't decide where he wanted to focus his attention. He happily looked from one thing to another, his tail quivering in delight and he suckled on his fist.

Not a single person approached the two to introduce themselves, and Bulma didn't care to start a conversation with anyone herself. She'd been worried about how Trunks would be treated, and it seemed that her anxieties had been valid. Memories of her own childhood were coming back once again, and she was having trouble not feeling overwhelmed by it all.

 _Finally,_ after what seemed like an eternity, Bulma heard the sound of somebody clapping their hands together. She looked up to see a middle-aged woman standing on top of the rug in the center of the room. "It's so _good_ to see so many returning faces!" The woman was saying with an eerily soft voice. "As you already know, I am Misaki, and I will be reading to your beautiful children today. Feel free to have a seat!" With that, Misaki gave a small bow and gestured to the rug below her. All of the mothers promptly began to swarm at it.

Somehow it made Bulma feel even more left out to watch all of the other women find their seats. How natural the action seemed to be for all of them. They knew exactly what to expect, and what to do. There was no doubt that they had already attended quite a few of these Learning Center events. It only seemed to accentuate how awkward and out of place Bulma felt with everything. How excluded Trunks was because of his tail, even though he was only a few months old.

Nevertheless she followed suit, kicking her shoes off and making her way to the rug with Trunks still in her arms. The other mothers had formed a circle around Misaki, and as Bulma approached nobody looked up or bothered to make room for her. Misaki, now seated in a chair, spoke up. "Now, we have a few more people than normal, but surely we can all fit! Could somebody move back a little to let her in?"

Nobody budged.

Misaki cleared her throat, not used to having her clients ignore her instructions. "Come on now, could _somebody_ please make room?" She said, this time with more authority. "We want _everyone_ to hear the story, don't we?"

Still, nobody moved. This time Misaki clapped her hands with anger. "This story-time is not going to start until we can _all_ have a seat!"

 _That did it._ Reluctantly, a couple of mothers rearranged themselves to create an opening. Bulma took a seat between the two women. One had an infant that appeared to be Trunks' age, and the other had a toddler. "Thank you," Bulma said softly, attempting to break the ice. Both of the women pretended not to hear, looking straight ahead at Misaki and leaning away.

It was then that Misaki, seated in her chair, seemed to catch a glimpse of Trunks for the first time. Her face soured as she eyed, undoubtedly, his tail. "Oh – Uhh, well... erm… Lets begin... shall we?" She breathed, tearing her eyes away and putting her attention on the book.

Bulma really was trying not to let the behavior of everyone around bother her. The whole reason she had decided to go out was to have a good time, wasn't it? To teach Trunks how to interact with others and make friends? This wasn't about _her!_ It was about her baby, wasn't it?! But still – all of these chatty mothers were doing their part to make sure that Trunks was excluded just because of how he looked. How could she not take offense to that?!

 _'Well_ ,' Bulma thought, looking back down at the child in her lap and fighting back an angry lump in her throat as she considered how unfair it was for him. ' _Trunks can make as many friends as he wants, but he can certainly do much better than this group!'_

The young mother really did try to focus completely on the book, and ignore the fact that it seemed as if everyone was slowly scooting away from her as time passed. The story wasn't much help in distracting her from how clear it was that she and Trunks weren't welcome, though. Bulma was having a hard time becoming involved with it. It was a cheesy tale about a cub who ate too much honey, despite warnings from its mother bear. What a stupid plot!

Once the book was finished and the mothers had disbanded from the circle, Misaki began to pull toys out from the shelves. Bulma watched as mothers began to take their children to the toys. How happy the kids all looked, running to one another and sharing their fun. She watched as a couple of toddlers embraced in a hug, their mothers excitedly chattering above them.

 _'They're so nice to each other, but so cold to us._ ' Bulma thought, trying not to glare. She hugged Trunks close. Despite her anger she couldn't help but to once again feel completely isolated, even in this room full of people. The only thing that her experience at the Learning Center had done was magnify how alone she felt inside, and how worried she was of the life Trunks may have to face with such an unusual extremity. "Maybe we should just go..."

The outcast mother slipped her shoes back on and began to make her way for the door. When she was half way across the room, Trunks began to fight against her grip. Bulma stopped walking. "What's wrong, honey?" She asked. Trunks continued to fight against her, and it became obvious that he was reaching for something on the floor. Whatever it was, he wanted it so bad that he was almost jumping from his mother's arms to get to it. Bulma looked down to see what he was going crazy for, and she smiled. "Hey, you have a rattle just like that! Don't you, Trunks?" She said. She bent down and placed the baby on the floor. Trunks sat himself up and grabbed the toy, shaking it happily. "DA!" He exclaimed. Bulma giggled, patting him on the head. No matter how upset or out of place she was feeling, seeing him happy made _her_ happy.

"Yes Trunks, _rat-tle_! You'll say the word _rattle_ some day, won't you?"

"Raaa!" Trunks sang, looking around the room as he shook the toy. He had finally gotten his mother to set him down, and he was _surrounded_ by toys! How exciting! Overcome with all of the possibilities, the baby was ecstatically panting as he tried to decide on what he wanted to play with next. His tail began to swing, an expression of his joy.

Not too far from the infant was the same stack of blocks he'd seen earlier, laying on the floor and unattended. The blocks had been arranged on top of one another in the form of a tower, ready to be taken apart by an eager child. Trunks' tail seemed to gravitate towards the tower, swooping closer and closer to it each time it swang. Bulma caught sight of the potential hazard. "Watch out," She said, starting for her son. Yet she had acted too late. As she reached for the baby his tail swung _just_ close enough to collide with the block tower, resulting in a loud crumbling sound bursting through the room. Bulma flinched as blocks flew in each direction. Trunks threw his hands in the air, squealing in delight.

"That was... a pretty hard impact," The wide-eyed mother whispered, grabbing at a block that had fallen close to her feet. Nobody had been playing with the tower prior to Trunks knocking it down, so she didn't think much damage had really been done. Regardless, she decided that they'd leave as soon as she finished picking up the mess. His tail wasn't just an excuse for others to look down on him – it was a safety hazard! As she was grabbing the second block nearby, a voice spoke up behind her.

"Oh _great!_ We were going to use those!"

Bulma turned to see one of the women that she'd noticed whispering about her earlier. At the woman's feet stood a small girl. The little toddler looked frightened by her mother's tone, and was hiding behind her skirt nervously. Bulma crouched down to be face-level with the little girl. "I'm sorry." She said, holding the block out in her hand as she offered it to the child. "Here you go, sweetie!"

The little girl reached for the block shyly, but her mother pulled her back. "No, Yuna! Don't touch it! You'll get your hands dirty!"

"Dirty?" Bulma looked up in shock. "What do you _mean_ dirty?"

The woman glared, turning to eye Trunks. "Right. Act as if you don't know how filthy _that thing_ is." The woman scoffed, pulling her daughter further back.

Bulma stood upright, taking in a deep breath. She thought back on what the attendant who had signed her in had said.

_'It's... furry! And it's... moving!'_

Bulma's eyebrows furrowed. _Dirty?_ She'd expected people to be surprised, and perhaps even confused by her son's tail. But she hadn't considered that people would find it _dirty._

"You've got a lot of nerve coming in here and ruining such a fun event for everyone!" The lady was now snarling.

Bulma pursed her lips, throwing the block down on the floor. "How dare you!" She barked, picking Trunks up and pulling the rattle from his hands. Trunks let out a groan of protest, but she ignored him and dropped the toy where she stood. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was more than upset. She gave the woman one last glare before Bulma turned to walk away. Behind her had been all of the other mothers, watching the scene unfold. They were huddled with one another, scowling at her and whispering to each other once again.

As the Bluehead made her way through the room the crowd of mothers cleared a path for her to walk through. "What a great example to make for your kids! Trunks and I can find _way_ better places to go to that won't be so judgmental!" She announced, unable to keep the anger to herself anymore. There was a fire raging within – she was pissed.

As she continued to advance to the door she walked past a woman who was muttering to her friend. "Y _eah, that PLACE would be the ZOO!_ "

She overheard another woman whisper " _what a couple of **freaks**!_ " and somebody else say "I'd love to see what _its_ father is like!"

 _It?_ When Bulma heard this she swung around to face the direction that the comment had come from. _**it**? As if Trunks wasn't even a person, but a **thing**?!_

"For your information, **his** father is the strongest man alive!" Bulma spat. Oh, if only Vegeta had been there... She'd tell him to blast one of the shelves just to prove her point. He wouldn't have stood for this. He would have had her back. _Kami, she missed him..._ She wouldn't have to be defending her and her son's honor all on her own! He would have done something without her even having to ask!

" _Isn't she one of those Briefs? I 've always heard that they were a bit crazy - I didn't realize they were a bunch of **freaks** as well!_ " Someone else quipped from the back of the crowd.

Bulma made a point to let out a loud scoff. There was no use in continuing this – she was by far outnumbered! She began to charge for the door, and just before she stepped outside she turned to give the crowd of women one last glare. "I'm sure that _each_ of you have secrets you'd be mortified if any of us learned. How dare you judge my son – a _baby -_ and consider yourself a good person!" And, with that, she stepped out of the Learning Center and into the bright daylight. Letting out a frustrated groan, the Bluehead clamped her eyes shut. The laughs and taunts of the mothers had disappeared as soon as the door shut behind her.

She was livid, hurt, and feeling even more isolated than she had before she'd left the house. "I can't _believe_ people! They were all _mothers_! How could they _do_ something like that to a _baby!?_ "

Trunks didn't understand what had just happened. One second he had been so happy, playing with his favorite toy. The next second his mother was obviously distressed, and the other women in the room had been saying things that obviously had ill-intent. He looked up at his mommy and watched her face, feeling worried. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her bottom lip was quivering, and her fingers tightened into his little waist as if he was the only thing she had. _Was Mommy about to cry? Mommy wasn't supposed to cry! Mommy NEVER cried!_

_Why, that was **his** job!_

"Maaa..." Trunks offered, reaching up to place his tiny hand on his mother's cheek. Her skin felt warm under his pudgy fingers, and she turned to him in surprise. "What did you say?" She breathed. The baby didn't respond. He just blinked at her, wondering what he'd done to cause her face to brighten so much. "That must have been a coincidence." The mother smiled. It felt good to hear her son call her _ma_ , even if it hadn't been on purpose. She hugged him tight and fumbled around in her pocket, searching for her capsule. "Let's just go get some lunch. Who cares about that _stupid_ story time!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You don't have to tell me how frustrating this chapter was - I am right there with you! Don't hate me! :) I just have to stay true to this story, regardless of how much I want to jump through the screen and kick some arse!
> 
> There will be one (perhaps even two) more chapters posted tonight, but it will be a few hours before I can get to that. I hope you enjoyed these two new ones - and again, please don’t hate me for how frustrating this is! :)


	33. Utilize Every Minute

* * *

 

_Utilize every minute._

Sweat was dripping from each pore in Vegeta's body. Working in his legendary state, the blonde Saiyan had powered up to the highest level he could muster, throwing punches straight ahead at an astounding rate. If there had been another person around who could have seen him as he worked, they would have passed out in shock by the visual – or rather, the lack of. He was moving so quickly that he wouldn't have been able to be seen with the human eye. The extreme determination that was written on Vegeta's face was only a finishing touch to how strained he appeared, ki flaring around him as he moved with extreme speed.

It took a lot of energy for Vegeta to maintain his maximum power, and it took even more to move around while doing so. So far he'd found that when he was powered to this level he could throw about 798 punches in a minute. But his goal was to increase that number. _798 punches in a minute was rubbish. If a saiyan couldn't throw at LEAST 1,000 per minute, then what was his use?_

It was broad daylight, but the forest he stood in was dark due to the trees above his head. Upon leaving the Briefs residence, Vegeta's first ambition had been to find an isolated location where he could train undisturbed. He had been successful with this goal - the nearest town was hundreds of miles away.

_Utilize every minute._

It would be an understatement to say that Vegeta had been excited about his new-found remoteness when he'd first come across the forest. He was absolutely thrilled by it, and he was determined to make every moment he spent in solitude count. So Vegeta, still feeling somewhat aroused by his encounter with _his woman_ and eager to begin his training, had gone straight into a powerup within minutes of arriving. He put everything he had into it; all of the turmoil and anger he'd been suffering from for so long suddenly had been released. It felt good to blow off some much needed steam, and the intoxicating sensation was proving to be something he had the trouble of cutting off.

As soon as he started training and felt that rush of absolute power, Vegeta began to realize how much productivity had been thrown away when he'd been staying at the Briefs residence. He knew that he'd sacrificed a lot of time to attempt at keeping the peace with _Her._ But he hadn't recognized _just_ how much of it he'd really given up. Even when he had trained at the Briefs residence, his sessions had been almost useless. How worthless those attempts at meditation had been as he worked so hard to drown out the sound of that _boy's_ crying. How weak his body had become because he hadn't been pushing it hard enough. In Vegeta's eyes, he was incredibly far behind and he had a lot catching up to do. So, even on his first night in the forest, he spent hours exercising in the dark and pushing his body to its limit. He'd hardly slept at all. It was easy enough for him to slip into a trance as he worked, taking his anguish out on his limbs and muscles. The harder that he strived, the more mental concentration the training required. Before long he found that there wasn't a single thought going through his mind other than wanting to become more strong, more powerful, and more quick. No longer was the Woman there to distract him from his goals. No longer was the anxiety about fathering a child preventing him from losing himself to the motions of his body as he worked through a series of kicks. It wasn't until Day 3, when he had completely exhausted himself physically, that Vegeta fell to his knees and slept for the first time since arriving in the woods.

The next morning, after hunting down his breakfast and filling his stomach, Vegeta went back into it. This time he had even more ease in being able to focus than he had the night before. Each exercise session really did capture him into a stranglehold of a single minded, meditative-like state.

_There were no thoughts of his Woman._

_No thoughts of that infant._

_Not even of how much he needed to surpass Kakarot._

There were no thoughts at all, moving solely to improve himself, the adrenaline coursing through his veins almost better than an orgasm. Vegeta quickly found himself stuck in a cycle, repeating the same routine of fetching a meal and then pushing his body to its limit every single day.

 _'Utilize every minute.'_ The saiyan would tell himself each morning when he woke.

 _'Keep going. Utilize every minute.'_ He'd tell himself when his body began to quiver from its abuse.

The daily pattern continued with no sign of an end. While the saiyan was aware that time was passing as he spent even more days in the wilderness, it was hard for him to calculate how long it had truly been. He found that he also didn't even care when he was so obsessively preoccupied. _This_ was what he had been born to do. _This_ was what made his DNA happy. All he _needed_ was the silence of the forest and the capability of his body, and he could spend the rest of his life training _alone._ It wasn't until one morning that Vegeta woke up and didn't instantly jump into action. Perhaps it was the dream he'd had, or perhaps it was something he'd encountered the day before that resonated within, but the saiyan woke up dazed enough to lay still for a few seconds, gathering in his surroundings. The time he spent laying with his free thoughts, instead of being focused solely on how much he needed to train, allowed him to realize how painfully uncomfortable he felt. He finally decided that he needed to take a break. He hadn't been planning to when he'd gone to bed the night before, but he knew that he needed to temporarily stop.

And it pissed him off.

Vegeta pulled himself up and stepped out from the make-shift bunker that he had thrown together for shelter. He took in a lung-full of air, noting how _wretched_ his own odor was. His skin felt thick, his hair heavy with oil. _Uncomfortable indeed_. The thought of returning to the Briefs residence, sitting down with a large meal, taking a steaming hot shower, and getting a new set of clothes was entirely too pleasing for the warrior prince to pass up. In fact, he was pretty sure that he _hated_ the fact that his stomach growled so eagerly at the memory of Mrs. Briefs' stew.

_What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he so prone to retreating back to that **chamber**?! _

On top of everything else, the thought of losing a day's worth of training was infuriating. When this crossed his mind he became so angry that he instantly threw his head back and let out a barbaric scream. " _I was making such progress!"_ He bellowed, the energy of his ki kicking up dust from the soil beneath his feet and throwing debris into the air. His hands were formed into tight fists, and he could hear the trees above his head rattle as birds fled the branches in fear.

* * *

The weather was mild that morning; a comfortable temperature that felt neither hot nor cold. Bulma was laying in the grass, relaxing her muscles after a nice morning workout. She was appreciating the scent of dew in the early air, but she didn't feel particularly happy. It had only been a couple of days since she'd taken Baby Trunks to The Learning Center. While she was trying not to let the events that had taken place there bother her, she couldn't keep them from her mind. Her anxieties over Trunks had seemed to only exacerbate since that day. She felt like there was something she _needed_ to do, and the decision was not an easy one for her to come to. If only she could talk to someone about it, perhaps it would be much less difficult to consider…

Bulma looked up into the sky, her eyes squinting as the sun slowly poked out from behind a cloud. She let out a loud sigh, wiping residual sweat from her forehead. She'd pushed herself hard that morning during her workout. It was paying off - she was starting to notice a change with her figure. But the process was steady, but it was slow, and it wasn't enough. Her body still wasn't where it had been _pre-pregnancy._

It was then that Bulma heard something in the distance, and she sat up. _It was a familiar noise..._ That constant, steady, rhythmic tune that came from breaking the sound barrier. It was in the sky, and it quickly seemed to be growing louder as it moved closer... Could _it be...?_ Her heart jumped in her chest with surprise. She'd grown used to him being away, and she certainly hadn't been expecting _this_ now. It had been so long - _so long_ \- since she'd seen him. _Could it really be that he was flying home_?

"Vegeta..." Bulma breathed. The scene didn't feel real at all. It seemed as if it had been years since he'd told her he was leaving. Since they had shared their last kiss. _Since he had stubbornly left even as she called after him and begged him to stay_.

In the beginning, after his departure, Bulma had missed him greatly. It was a bittersweet yearning, the moment they had shared together before he left had held her over for weeks. It was hard to feel insecure after an embrace like _that_. However, with time Bulma's spirits began to decline. He'd promised her that he would only be gone for a couple of weeks, and as those weeks continued to pass with no sign of Vegeta, she gave up on that notion.

In fact, it started to make her feel timorous to think of Vegeta. The situation was too similar to when he'd taken the ship into space, and that had been such a terrible time for her. She couldn't even bear to reflect on it. He hadn't been overly kind to her before leaving for the second time, but Bulma had definitely noticed a change within. It hurt too much to think of him reverting back into his old, _completely_ single-minded ways. She couldn't stand to think of it - not after that last kiss...

So Bulma had begun to push the thoughts from her mind as much as possible. She had learned to distract herself in other ways – by focusing on developing her new routine as a mother, by helping her father with projects, by reading books in bed to ward off the loneliness at night. If images of Vegeta even began to enter her mind, Bulma would immediately go looking for Trunks, pick up a laundry basket, or run outside with her hand weights. _Anything to avoid pining away for him_. In fact, Bulma had finally gotten to a place of indifference when it came to the saiyan. She'd gotten good at distracting herself from thinking of him, and it had come to a point where she really didn't have to try so hard anymore.

She hadn't thought of him at all that morning, and so she was completely blindsided by the idea that he was now on his way home. It was just too surreal! But sure enough, she could now see that Vegeta was closing in on the Briefs residence with breakneck speed. Bulma pulled herself up from the grass with a gulp. Feeling both ecstatic and apprehensive as her heart continued to race, she dusted herself off and looked up. _He was so close now, and it would be only a matter of seconds before he landed..._

Vegeta's feet hit the ground with a thud. He'd landed directly in front of her, only a meter away, but he didn't acknowledge her presence at all. Instead, he looked down at his arm to slap dust off it. There was something about his stature that made Bulma feel even more uneasy. The way he was holding himself and _that look_ on his face told her that he was in a bad mood.

_Deja Vu._

On top of that, the saiyan looked _terrible_. His skin was sporting a brown hue, having been stained from dirt. The clothes he wore looked completely shredded, only a few fibers holding the suit together over his chest and pelvic area. She could see scars on his chest that he hadn't had before, and his muscles looked harder and more toned than ever. Yet the thing she noted the most about him was the _stench_...

Finishing with his efforts to smack the dirt from his skin, Vegeta let out a sigh. It was then that he spoke, but he did so without even glancing at her. "Well?" He said. Bulma pursed her lips. There was an irate undertone that she felt was uncalled for. Starting to feel irritated herself, she cleared her throat. "Well, _what_?"

At long last the saiyan lifted his head to give her a strict look. There was no doubt to Bulma now that he was in a terrible mood - perhaps the worst she'd ever seen him. "Well, aren't you going to show me inside, Woman? I haven't got all day!"

It took no time at all for Bulma to fall back into her own old ways, throwing her hands up in the air and letting out an exasperated groan. "Oh, I'm _sorry_!" She blared. "Since when have I _ever_ held open a door for you!"

"I told you to take me inside, Woman." Vegeta snapped, his bitter expression not having changed at all from the tone of her voice.

 _How dare he speak to her like that!_ He had been nearly _pleasant_ when he'd arrived back on Earth, save the foul moods he would be in shortly after a training session in the ship. But _this?_ It was clear that he'd quickly slipped back to the state he was in when he'd arrived at the Briefs residence for the very first time. Spoiled, demanding, and brute! _But how could she have been surprised?_ He would end up in a bad enough mood while training in the ship for a few hours. Of course it would magnify dramatically when he spent months on end doing it!

' _Well!'_ She thought. If that's how he wanted to act, two could certainly play that game. Waving a hand over her nose, Bulma turned away from the saiyan with an exaggerated gag. "You think I'll let _you_ in the house smelling like _that_? Good luck!"

"Enough with your jests, Woman!" Vegeta growled. "Take me to the bathing quarters. _Now_!"

Bulma turned and waved towards the ship. "No way. If you want to escort _yourself_ inside, you'd better clean off in there first. Don't even _think_ about tracking that stench into the house! You'll wake Trunks, and then I'll be _sure_ to bludgeon you!" The peeved saiyan stepped towards Bulma, and before he could reply she cut him off. "What was it you said about the ship before you left? It suffices to live in because it has a bed? Well, it's also got a shower, Buddy! So go! You smell _disgusting!_ "

That was why he'd come to the Briefs residence, _wasn't it?_ To shower? Vegeta was so eager to achieve this goal that he didn't even bother to respond to her belittling words. Instead he turned and began to slowly advance towards the ship. "I expect a large meal when I finish. And bring a change for clothes to me!" He barked.

Heat was rising in Bulma's cheeks. "You won't get a thing unless you ask me nicely!" She called back. "And even then, you'd be _very_ lucky!"

.

Still, despite how terribly rude he was behaving, Bulma couldn't keep herself from leaving a set of fresh clothing by the ship's door. And she couldn't help but assist her mother in preparing an early lunch for the saiyan. His attitude did nothing less than piss her off, but she couldn't deny that she was reluctantly glad he was back. Even as she watched him eat, the saiyan not speaking a single word to anyone around him as Mrs. Briefs raced to refill his plates as quickly as they emptied, Bulma was glad.

There was the decision she'd been coming to that had been bothering her, and she's been waiting in hopes that she'd get to speak to him about it... The mood he was exhibiting worried her that he would refuse to discuss anything in a reasonable manner, but she was relieved to at least have the chance. She wasn't so sure that it would turn out well... However, she was determined to try anyway.

It was something that she knew she needed to do.

… She just hoped that it would turn out well.


	34. Once A Jerk, Always A Jerk

* * *

"Mom, where's Vegeta?"

Bulma had just come downstairs with Trunks balanced on her hip. The baby yawned, still crabby from his nap. His eyelids felt heavy and he watched Mrs. Briefs suspiciously. Bulma had only been gone for a couple of minutes, having excused herself from the meal to fetch the crying baby upstairs. When she'd left the kitchen Vegeta had still been stuffing his face, but now he was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh, he went outside." Mrs. Briefs replied. She was in the process of cleaning off the table. "Well my, oh, my! He was hungry! I forgot how much that boy eats!"

The Bluehead didn't respond. She looked out the window and could see that Vegeta was making his way across the yard, as if he would take off into the sky at any moment. _Son of a bitch!_ She broke into a run for the door, holding Trunks tight to keep him from bouncing too much as she went.

Outside Vegeta was enjoying a breeze of wind as it slapped him in the face. He was about to jump into the air when he'd sensed footsteps coming after him. He focused his energy to sense the ki, and it didn't take long for him to recognize it as the Bluehead's. He could _feel_ her making her way to him, and despite how much of a hurry he was in, the saiyan decided to wait and see what she had to say.

"You mean you're just going to leave again?!" She shrieked.

Vegeta turned around. Little Trunks was watching him with wariness, listening as his mother caught her breath. Bulma was glad she'd caught the saiyan before he'd left, but she was now beyond furious. Everything was happening so quickly. He was acting so cold.

"I need to get back to training." The saiyan said sternly.

"So, you're telling me that you only came here to shower and eat?" Bulma replied. She'd expected that the saiyan would leave again, but she thought he'd at least stay the night. She hadn't even found a chance to have her _serious discussion_ with him yet!

"We only have a little longer before battle, and I am going to utilize every minute we have until then to prepare. Don't press me, Woman!"

 _How dare he!_ Bulma took into a sharp breath, preparing her lungs for the impending shouting match. There was no doubt in her mind that she would to rip him a new one. The nerve he had to show up, make a series of demands, and then give her such attitude before leaving. _And he had been about to take off without saying goodbye, too!_ He would have just flown away if she hadn't caught him!

Suddenly Bulma felt something that immediately sobered her from her rage. Little Trunks was digging his tiny fingers into her side. He was obviously becoming nervous by the tone of his parents' voices, his little breaths starting to quicken with infantile worry. She really didn't want to subject him to the tension of her and Vegeta's issues. He was just an baby, and he didn't deserve to be exposed to such a thing... So, with every ounce of will in her, Bulma closed her eyes and took in another deep breath to calm her composure. ' _If only Trunks was still asleep.'_ She thought, letting out a deep breath. ' _Vegeta would surely get what's coming to him...'_

"Look, I don't care what you do." She finally spoke, choosing her words carefully. "Go if you have to... But before you leave, I want to talk to you about Trunks." She was attempting to speak calmly, but it wasn't working. Her words came out harsh and sounded like a threat. At least she wasn't yelling.

Vegeta, who had already been exhibiting a cold expression on his face, instantly began to scowl even more upon hearing the child's name. "What do I have to discuss about the boy? He is of no concern to me."

This was the wrong thing for him to say, and Bulma's attempt at civility was suddenly failing her. " _Trunks_ is your _son_!"

Those words seemed to set Vegeta off. He instantly turned and began to walk away from the two. "You both seem to be getting along perfectly fine without me!" He snapped. "I've got my own shit to do. Don't concern me with something when it isn't necessary!"

Bulma had placed Trunks down in the grass and was marching right after the saiyan. "It _is_ necessary!" She spat. "Don't you care about how your _son_ is brought up?! I need to talk to you about something _important!_ "

Again, Vegeta tensed at her words. " ** _AHH_** _!_ " He yelled, letting out a primal call as his ki ripped into a level so high that the air around him began to wave. It was such an intensity that Bulma was swept off her feet and went crashing into the ground below. She was on her stomach and looked up at him, a fierceness in her eyes. He glanced over his shoulder to give her the darkest look she'd ever seen him make towards her, before he turned away once more. " ** _Enough with your badgering, Woman!_** " Vegeta bellowed. " ** _I have already told you! Do NOT concern me with matters that aren't necessary!_** " With that, and without saying anything else, he shot off into the air.

Her heart was pounding, disbelief streaming through her veins as she watched him go. Tears welled in her eyes as she watched his figure disappear into the sky, growing smaller with each meter he made. _He was really leaving!_ Leaving - and without giving her an opportunity to discuss her concerns with him, or even a chance to make up after the fight they'd just had! There would be no closure for her after the harsh words he'd just said, no way of her responding or making her frustrations known. How long would she have to wait to chew him out _now?!_

She'd been glad that he'd come back, but she hadn't truly realized just how _happy_ and _hopeful_ she'd been about his return until that moment. Now watching him take off made her feel nothing less than disappointed, bitter, and _discarded_.

"You bastard!" She screamed, though she knew he couldn't hear. Trying to watch him was becoming too difficult – her vision was growing blurry with the tears that filled her eyes. She was on her hands and knees, and she squeezed her eyelids shut as she let out a sob. "Coward!" She yelled, her cheeks becoming wet with the streams running down them. There was no ability to hold back on her weeping. She gasped sharply, feeling breathless. "He's just a big fucking baby! He won't take any responsibility for anything!" Letting out another sob, Bulma slammed a fist into the Earth below. The abandonment and anger that she was experiencing had hit her all too hard and fast, and it was becoming too much to take. How long was she going to have to feel this way? How much more would she be subjected to? She hadn't even wanted _much_ from him – just a simple conversation about the fate of their son!

Why did she have to do _everything_ alone?!

She felt a soft hand clasp her shoulder, but she didn't respond. She let out another loud cry, clamping her eyes even tighter. She'd been trying to remain strong for _so_ long, and it actually felt good to finally cry. She wasn't ready to stop herself from it. Not yet.

"Baby..." Mrs. Brief's said, but she sounded kilometers away. Bulma ignored her, shaking her head and sobbing even more. Kami, he was such a bastard. She understood how seriously he took his training - but _how could he_ do this to her?! How could she have been such a fool as to expect anything more!?

She felt two hands pulling her to her feet, but she shook her head again.

"Baby, what happened?"

Bulma closed her mouth, sniffling violently as she trembled. Her mother's fingers were now running though her hair. The chirpy, untroubled side of Mrs. Briefs had gone away. A new part of her personality had come out instead. Mrs. Briefs was now the authoritative mother, willing to do anything to take care of her daughter in a time of need. "Come on, come on." She was instructing. Her tone, although concerned, was incredibly firm. "Let's go inside. It'll be okay. It'll _all_ be okay..." Her voice made its way through Bulma's temples, ringing through her ears and tracing down her spine. The Bluehead gulped. It was then that she finally opened her eyes, deciding to come back down from her hysterics. She wiped the remaining tears away and looked around, still sniffling. Mrs. Briefs had her locked in a tight hug, one hand still running through her hair soothingly. A few meters away stood Mr. Briefs, who was holding Trunks and watching in silence.

How good it felt to have her _mom_ massaging her so calmly. It took Bulma back to when she was a young child, crying on her bed about her frustrations with being made fun of for presenting a small cleaning bot during show and tell. As a seven year old she sobbed angrily, demanding to know why none of the other kids could share her enthusiasm over the very first bot she'd designed. Her mother had calmly rubbed her back, and she'd promised that everything would okay. Bulma was now far from being a little girl, but she still needed this. _It was amazing how some things never changed._ She suddenly felt like that little girl once again. _It seemed that, no matter how old she grew, Bulma would always need her mother..._

"You don't have to talk about it, just come inside - come inside and lay down..." Mrs. Briefs' began to pull her daughter towards the house, and the Bluehead obeyed without any protest.

.

Five minutes later the two ladies were sitting in bed, Bulma's head feeling heavy with headache in recoil from her intense crying session. Her mother was beside her, rubbing a warm cloth over her shoulders. "Don't worry about the baby." She was saying. "We've got him covered. Just relax... it'll all be okay."

Those words - Mrs. Briefs seemed to keep repeating those words. Bulma didn't want to hear them.

_It'll all be okay._

There was a sinking feeling in her stomach, and each time she heard that phrase she found it harder to fight back the tears from reemerging. The way Vegeta had acted wouldn't stop replaying in her mind, like a scene from a terrible horror film. _How could he have been so cruel?_ Even if he was in a bad mood from his training, this behavior was on a completely new level. It _wasn't_ okay.

"Everything will be alright," Mrs. Briefs was coaxing now. But it was no comfort to Bulma. Her mother didn't know what had happened. Mrs. Briefs hadn't listened to the exchange of words. She hadn't seen the distant look on Vegeta's face, or heard the sound of his voice when he spoke.

_She didn't understand at all._

Things didn't feel alright. They weren't going to _be_ alright. She felt far from it. However, despite Mrs. Briefs' insisting, Bulma had no intention of sulking in bed for the rest of the day while her parents took care of Trunks. He was _her_ son, after all. At that moment she felt like she needed the baby more than he needed her.

* * *

"Strong lungs... He has no problems focusing his eyes, either..." Dr. Plocks commented. He turned Trunks' head to the side. "Exceptional hearing, as well..."

It was a couple of weeks after Vegeta had taken off so boorishly, and Trunks was having his seven month checkup. Bulma watched from her chair as the doctor patted the baby on the head. "You're doing a great job with this one." Dr. Plocks announced, turning to write down a few notes on his clipboard. "All in all, he's quite the trooper. Come see me when he's at nine months, and we'll go from there. Any questions?"

Bulma stood, having waited for the opportunity to speak. "Actually, yes! I do..."

Dr. Plocks looked up from the paper he'd been writing on.

"Well, I was wondering..." Bulma considered her words carefully. "... About his tail... Would it be difficult to remove?"

It was as if she'd suggested something vulgar. The doctor made an ailed face and looked to the baby. "Not at all." He replied.

"Then, I'd like to learn more about the process, and see about getting it started." Bulma stated, feeling more confident as the words left her mouth. She'd done it – she'd finally voiced her feelings on something she'd been thinking so much about. Something she'd tried to get Vegeta's opinion on, but he'd turned her away. She had made this decision entirely on her own, and now she was going to see about fulfilling it.

Dr. Plocks looked back up at Bulma slowly, lifting an eyebrow. "Yes, well... Of course! But are you _sure_ this is what you want? After he was born I brought the subject up, and... The father seemed less than _thrilled-_ "

"It doesn't matter." She interrupted. An awkward silence fell over the room as the doctor looked at her questioningly. Finally, she continued. "He... The father isn't in the picture..." She looked away shamefully. Simply _saying_ that phrase made her voice catch in her throat, and she didn't want him to see the look on her face. It was too painful. "And, anyway, this is something I've put a lot of thought into." Her voice quivered. "I'm _sure_ about this... It's for Trunks… It's for his own good…"

She waited for the Doctor to say something, unable to make eye-contact until he replied. She heard him walk across the room, and then make his way back. A moment later he was grabbing Bulma's hand and placing a card into it. "Well, all I can suggest is to think about it. It's entirely up to you. The process, you'll find, can be quite simple and rather painless. If you still want to go through with it, this is the contact information for a really good children's orthopedic surgeon. She's one of the best in the industry, and I think you'll be very pleased with her."

Bulma smiled, squeezing the card in her hand. "Thank you."


	35. The Operation

* * *

"Bulma, I do think you should wait and speak with Vegeta about this matter." Mr. Briefs was insisting. He'd been trying to convince his daughter for days to reconsider her decision, but she wasn't hearing any of it. _That was just like Bulma's personality – to be so stubborn once she made her mind up on something._

"I _tried_ to talk to him, and he wanted nothing to do with it!" Bulma snapped back. She had been attempting to tune up the engine of one of the latest Capsule Corp prototypes. It irritated her enough to be interrupted as she worked, but this was on an entirely new level. She was still pissed at the saiyan, and hearing her parents speak his name – even trying to defend _him -_ rubbed a raw spot for her. They'd seen how distressed she'd been over him, so why were they acting this way? They should be on _her_ side! It was just _too_ insensitive!

"But you don't _remember_ , do you? He was quite protective over the matter when Trunks was born!" Mr. Briefs pleaded. "There's no rush, is there? Just wait until he comes back and have a proper chat first."

"No, Dad! The earlier this is done, the less traumatic it'll be for Trunks!" Bulma slammed her screwdriver down into the desk she was sitting at. "Vegeta _did_ come back, and he had his chance to reason with me, and instead he threw it away! You don't think I've thought long and hard over this? Well I have, and I had to do it all on my own, so the least _you_ can do is support my decision!"

Speechless, the disgruntled father nodded.

...

"Oh, poor baby boy. Do ya realize what's going to happen tomorrow? Is that it?" Mrs. Briefs coaxed as she bounced the crying baby on her lap. "There, there!"

"Mom!" Bulma watched from the other couch, her cheeks feeling hot. "We've already discussed this! It wouldn't be any different than if he'd been born with an extra finger that needed to be removed. Now stop trying to turn my son against me!"

"I'm not, I just think ya should speak to Vegeta. That's all!"

"He couldn't care less! _I tried to speak to him!"_

 _"_ He's a moody boy, but you should at least-"

"Mom! I already told you! I'm doing what's best for Trunks!"

"Yeah, but you really should-"

" ** _MOM!_** "

* * *

It was now 8 in the morning. Kyo Ohno rinsed the soap off her hands, preparing herself for the procedure she'd be performing in just a few moments. She'd heard a few stories from Dr. Plocks about her new patient, but there was no way they were true.

"Be careful with him – he looks normal, but if he gets upset he could have the strength of a _strong_ adult." Dr. Plocks had warned during a phone call.

"Nonsense!" Kyo had replied. There was no way that an infant could ever be that capable. It simply wasn't scientifically _possible_. A baby didn't have bones dense enough, let alone muscles that were firm enough to be able to cause all of the damage that Dr. Plocks raved about. There was just _no way_. It wasn't like him to be so disorganized, but it seemed much more possible for Dr. Plocks to have Trunks confused with another patient.

Dr. Kyo stepped into the waiting room and caught sight of her young patient, being bounced in the lap of a tired looking Bulma Briefs. It was only natural for Bulma to be worried, but there was no way that something could go wrong. Trunks was in good hands, and Dr. Kyo tried to express this in the warm smile she exhibited.

"It won't take too long?" Bulma had already discussed this during the consultation, but she needed reassurance as she handed Trunks to the doctor.

"It shouldn't, no. Just a couple of hours." Dr. Kyo replied, reaching for the baby and offering another warm smile.

"And… he won't feel any pain?" Bulma's grip tightened around Trunks' waist, reluctant to give him away. Her heart was pounding. After she let go of her son there really _would_ be no turning back.

"Of course not. We're taking every precaution available to ensure that he'll be as comfortable as possible." Dr. Kyo smiled. She was used to this. All mothers were terrified before sending their children into the operating room. It was only natural!

Her lip quivering, Bulma slowly loosened her grip on the baby and stepped back. "Bye, Trunks..." She said softly. "Be good... Mommy will see you soon…"

The baby was stiff as Dr. Kyo carried him back into the operating room. He looked up at her with distrustful eyes, as if he were waiting for her to slip up and do something to justify how wary he felt. "Come on, let's go..." Dr. Kyo soothed. "This won't be bad _at all…"_

In the operating room was a nurse and a senior intern, both awaiting instruction. Dr Ryo handed the baby to the nurse. "Make sure you hold him tightly while I administer the anesthesia."

Trunks didn't like the serious inclination of that lady. What was she saying about him? And where on Earth _was he,_ anyway?! He began to grow even more uneasy. _Who were these people? Why was this new lady holding him so tightly... He didn't even know her, how DARE she carry him like this!_ The nurse was now laying him down on a table, and Trunks began to squirm. He'd decided that he needed to be as defiant as possible.

The breathing mask ready, Dr. Kyo turned to the operating table to see the nurse struggling with the patient as he squirmed. The two seemed to be engaged in some ridiculous type of power struggle! And what more, the baby seemed to actually be winning! "What's going on? I asked you to constrain him." The doctor said, losing the soft inclination of her voice.

"I'm trying, doctor, but he's making it hard!"

Trunks was kicking his legs and flailing his arms as the nurse attempted to hold him down. The intern ran over to assist, and that's when his tiny foot came into contact with her mouth. "Ah!" The intern backed away, holding a hand to her bleeding lip. Even though Dr. Kyo was witness to all this, she was in no mood for it. "Come on, he's just an infant!" She snapped. "Wash your hands and come back here. _I'll_ hold him down while _you_ administer!"

 _'Easier said than done, you old witch_.' The intern thought. But she obliged, scrubbing her hands and taking the mask. The nurse was still attempting to hold Trunks' hands in place while he flailed his legs. Dr. Kyo walked to the baby and grabbed his ankles, holding them flat against the table. He kicked against her, causing her entire body to shake with recoil, but she refused to let his legs move. This couldn't be happening. _It simply wasn't possible for a baby to be this strong!_ "See?" Dr. Kyo cried, her voice shaking as her body jolted from the struggles of the boy. "There's... nothing to it... He's just a... baby!" It was then that the baby's tail swung around and slammed into her eye. _"Son of a-!"_

The intern didn't move. She was too busy watching the scene in front of her, secretly amused. In truth, she was pleased to see her supervisor struggling so much. And it took all she had in her not to laugh. She didn't want to step anywhere near that baby! She was sure that her lip was swelling. She was content enough in just watching the scene unfold.

Trunks let out a howl of protest. He didn't like these women at all. He wanted his mommy! "Hurry up, will you!?" The doctor snapped. "Do it now, before he gets even more upset!"

_Oh! Right!_

The intern ran over and placed the mask over the baby's mouth and nose, drowning out the sound of his screams. Within a few seconds the baby had stopped howling, and within a few more he was fast asleep.

The doctor didn't want to admit how difficult the ordeal had been, as she used her sleeve to wipe sweat from her face. She was still catching her breath, and she backed away from the table to re-sanitize her hands once again. ' _It's the strangest thing!'_ She thought. ' _It just isn't possible. There's just no way a baby could be that strong!'_

* * *

Before Trunks went in for the surgery, Bulma had struggled with the thought of handing the baby away. She didn't second-guess herself nearly as much as she did in the hours leading to the operation. It was a scary feeling to think that she could still back out if she'd wanted to, and to wonder if she _really_ was doing the right thing. As the clock ticked on, and the time drew closer, Bulma found it hard not to be physically ill. Images of all of the things that could go wrong flashed through her head, and she wasn't sure if she could live with it if something happened to Trunks during the operation.

However, the time to hand over the baby quickly came and went. It was almost a relief for Bulma as she released her grip on her son and watched him disappear into the depths of the hospital. She could close the window on all of the pre-surgery anxieties that had been digging at her. But now, a new door of horrors had opened, and she was helplessly sitting in the waiting room and wondering what how everything was going inside.

 _'I'm just paranoid!'_ Bulma thought. She could have _sworn_ she'd heard Trunks' scream echoing from the depths of the hospital. ' _There's no way that was him.'_ The terrified mother focused on the television that was hanging in the corner. The news was playing, and as Bulma watched a story about the importance of not wasting electricity, Trunks' cries seemed to fade away. With a sigh of relief, Bulma sank deeper into her chair. ' _I knew that wasn't him.'_ She thought. ' _I've got to take it easy. The doctor promised that everything would be okay!'_

She'd left before her parents woke up. She'd been feeling so uneasy that she fled the house before her parents had to chance to state any more of their opinions about why the procedure was wrong. She knew in her heart that she really _was_ doing the right thing, but her pre-surgery anxiety was too bad at that point. She didn't want to hear one more plea from her mother. She was worried she might cave in. So she didn't even have her parents with her in the waiting room, once again feeling entirely too alone. It was still early in the morning, and there was nothing other than a clock and a television to keep her company. At some point other patients began to fill in the waiting room, but it didn't ease the desperate loneliness that she was experiencing. She wouldn't feel okay until she could once again wrap her arms around her son.

 _'This really is the right thing to do.'_ She reminded herself. Trunks was going to have a hard enough time growing up, being a half saiyan with a fairly well-known family name. He's was going to have to deal with a lot, and he would be spectacular, but he didn't need a tail to complicate things. Not to mention that the tail could be causing more problems than just social issues. Bulma wasn't sure if she'd be able to forgive herself if Trunks turned into a giant ape that destroyed the whole city in a fit of rage one day. And, of course, there was that worry that some troublemaker might grab Trunks by his tail, rendering the poor child paralyzed with pain! It was a risk that she wasn't willing to take, and as far as she was concerned the tail didn't make a difference in how much strength or power a saiyan could accumulate. Neither Goku nor Vegeta had tails, and they were two of the strongest men she knew!

 _"Right."_ Bulma breathed, feeling confident in her decision once again. She was doing what was best for Trunks, and that was enough to let her relax back into her chair.

It was then that the door leading into the waiting room opened, and Bulma looked up. A professional with a noticeably bruised lip walked in. "Ms. Briefs?" She asked, and the Bluehead jumped from her seat. "Come with me." The professional said. She gave a pained smile, and turned to lead Bulma to the back room where Trunks evidently was.

"Did everything go okay?" The anxious mother asked as she hastily followed behind.

"Yes, he did quite well. I think he'll recover just fine."

In the post-op room Trunks was already awake in his bed, and he looked pissed. "Oh, my baby!" Bulma gasped, running to his side. She wiped a tear of relief from her eye and gently placed her hands over his chest. The baby looked up at her and raised an eyebrow.

Behind them stood Dr. Kyo, who cleared her throat to make her presence known. Bulma looked up and jumped. Dr. Kyo's left eye was looking rather swollen, and it was starting to sport a rather bluish discoloration. Nevertheless, the surgeon forced a smile. "He's certainly... rambunctious. The procedure went just as planned - as soon as we were able to sedate him."

"Oh, no..." The mother moaned. "I'm so sorry! Did he hurt you guys?!"

Dr. Kyo shook her head. It was a lie. "Give him a couple of days to heal. Try not to let him crawl or be too active. Chances are he won't feel very much like moving around, anyway. He'll be just fine, but give us a call should you have any questions or concerns."

As soon as Bulma left with Trunks in her arms, Dr. Kyo fell back onto the floor.

"Doctor!" The nurse and intern said in unison.

"I'm fine," She replied. "I just need a moment... to lay down..."


	36. Trunks' Role Model

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I'll be uploading tonight. Thanks for reading!

* * *

After his surgery Trunks didn't have much desire to do anything at all. It wasn't that he _couldn't_ , but he just didn't see the point. His head felt heavy when he thought about crawling, and the idea of moving too much seemed more trouble than it was worth. Bulma had tried to motivate him, but Trunks was more than content to spend his time laying on his back. How strange the baby felt, knowing that something about him was different. It wasn't that he was in pain, but s _omething was missing…_

Yet his head was still foggy from the anesthesia, and he couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was. It seemed that he wanted to devote all of his time to understanding the new sensation he had with his body, and he didn't want to be interrupted. It was the second day after the surgery, and Trunks had just woken up. He lay on his back and gazed out the window that was above his crib. Staring at the clouds in the sky was the only thing that seemed to make him forget about how strange he was feeling... Watching those clouds reminded him of the image of Vegeta disappearing behind them as he soared away after his last fight with Bulma.

 _Trunks wasn't too sure of how he felt about Vegeta._ What confused him was that he was always coming and going. Why did _that man_ spend several days at the Briefs residence, and then disappear for an even longer period of time? It was hard for a baby to get to know someone when they just wouldn't stay put. And it wasn't only Vegeta's sporadic visits that puzzled the baby, but it was also his temperament. Trunks didn't mind it when he was in the same room as Vegeta, who would silently glare into space as if he wasn't aware of Mrs. Briefs' pampering. Trunks didn't mind it when Vegeta locked himself away in the ship for hours on end, either. In fact, Vegeta's reclusive behavior seemed to only intrigue the baby more. _What was he doing by himself for so long? Maybe some day Trunks would be able to join him, and figure it all out!_

No, what Trunks found the most strange was Vegeta's outbursts. The baby had noticed that it was a habit of his father's. How could such a silent and collected man be so prone to suddenly exploding with an overwhelming fit of emotion? It almost reminded Trunks of himself. The baby was used to opening his mouth and sobbing relentlessly until one of the adults came to assist him with one of his needs. But Trunks had learned early in his life that none of the other adults he encountered partook in this behavior. Vegeta, however, was the exception. The man seemed to be rather in favor of it! No, the saiyan prince wouldn't physically sob when he didn't get his way, but Trunks pondered that Vegeta's fits of rage were _just_ about the same thing. The only difference was that Vegeta seemed to erupt when he wanted solitude, and Trunks' outcries were fueled by a need for companionship. This - _this_ was the only _adult_ man Trunks had ever encountered who seemed to understand how satisfying it felt to throw a _really big_ tantrum.

And, oh, the awe that the baby inexplicably felt when he watched his father's bursts. He hated it when the man directed his outburts at _mommy,_ and that seemed to be the case the majority of the time. But still, there was something about the energy that discharged from the saiyan prince's skin when he let out a yell. Especially the last time it'd happened. It was scary and made Trunks want to hide, but it also captivated him. There was something that felt so important about the way Vegeta balled his hands into fists as lights of energy shot out from the ki around him, and it was an image that couldn't leave the baby's mind. In fact, Trunks found himself thinking ' _I want to do that, too.'_

_It was just so powerful…_

He still wasn't sure what he thought about the tantrums that Vegeta threw. And he wasn't exactly trustful of Vegeta after watching how he interacted with Bulma, but the _power_ he exerted – the _strength_ of his actions! Little Trunks felt that his father must have been the most physically capable adult he'd ever seen, and as a baby who couldn't even walk yet he found it nothing short of inspiring!

So, as baby Trunks lay in his bed and watched he clouds outside his window, he smiled to himself. The loud cracking sound of air breaking, the image of Vegeta disappearing into the sky with the wind blowing his hair out behind him... Trunks wanted to have just as much power as he'd seen in Vegeta. He wanted to fly, too.

"You're awake?" Bulma's voice rang. The baby didn't break his gaze from the clouds. He couldn't understand what his mother was saying to him, and he was just too busy daydreaming to care.

It was unusually late for Trunks to be sleeping, and Bulma felt an unusual mixture of both relief and worry to see him so calmly laying awake. It was typical for Trunks to be screaming hysterically as soon as he woke up, and this change of pace, although peaceful, was too unordinary for her comfort. She'd expected him to be apathetic after the procedure he'd had, but she was surprised at just how much the baby had changed in the few days that had passed.

"Are you feeling okay, little guy?" She asked, reaching into the crib and brushing a finger across his cheek. Trunks didn't acknowledge her presence at all. He continued to stare out this window, his eyes seemingly glued to one object. Bulma tried to follow his gaze, but she didn't see anything unusual.

* * *

Hours later Trunks was still laying on his back, but this time he was on the living room floor. Bulma sat over him, waving a toy in his face. "Come on, sweetie. I know you're tired, but you've _got_ to start moving a little. The exercise will be good for you!"

His head was still feeling heavy, and the ringing of the toy did nothing but irritate the baby. He didn't know what his mother was wanting him to do, but he had no desire to humor her _at all_. Without making a sound, the baby locked eyes on the toy. He glowered at it, and a second later he reached up and grabbed it from Bulma's hand. The fire in the Trunks' eyes resembled Vegeta's so much that Bulma let out a gasp and leaned back, watching in awe. As if trying to make a point, Trunks shook the toy vigorously at her before tossing it over his head, where it landed a few meters away with a thud.

It'd been weeks since she'd seen that flame in Vegeta's eyes, and Bulma was suddenly hit with an overwhelming wave of ache. Trunks' operation had succeeded in completely distracting her from the pain of having such a terrible and unresolved fight with somebody that she cared about so deeply. She hated how warm her heart felt when she thought of Vegeta's face. She hated how low her stomach sank when she remembered how coldly he'd treated her the last time they'd seen each other. She hated that she hadn't gotten to say anything back before he'd flown away. And what more, she couldn't help but feel ashamed - because even as she thought of how angry she was at him for his behavior, she still wanted to see him. If only they could sit down and have a _real_ talk, their issues would be resolved. That was all they needed! They just needed to be able to communicate.

Vegeta just didn't seem to understand that, and it was a shame. Perhaps her feelings towards the him, despite how awful Vegeta had behaved, was proof enough that Bulma really did love the man - _and she **hated** it. _ It was because of the pain she was struggling with that Bulma scooped Trunks into her arms and carried him outside. Perhaps the two could do with getting some fresh air.

 _Couldn't his mother see that he was tired and just wanted to be alone?!_ It irritated the baby to be carried off. He would have struggled if he'd been feeling more like himself. He just didn't have the energy or motivation. So, as much as he disapproved, he limply allowed his mother to carry him into the yard. However, when Bulma finally set him down in the grass his mood drastically changed. _He was outside!_ He looked around, delighted by the nature surrounding him. Bulma had walked off a little and was whispering something to herself. Trunks couldn't understand what she was saying, anyway. He just smiled, nuzzling his head into the grass...

 _… And then he looked up_.

Up. Up at the clouds he'd been watching earlier that day. Every time he looked at them he saw the image of his father flying away replayed in his mind. _Oh, if only Trunks could fly!_ He would have gone after Vegeta that day to see where he was going. It was with that thought that the baby began to imagine how it would feel to soar through the sky, with the entire world down below him as his ki waved around his body. He'd be powerful, able to do anything and everything...

_…He'd be just like Vegeta..._

Suddenly Trunks was feeling inspired. _He was going to fly some day. And he couldn't fly if he didn't start to move around like the other adults around him!_ He needed to stop being so lethargic! He decided that first he needed to learn how to walk. Then, someday, he'd show Vegeta _just_ how capable he was! With that thought the baby rolled over onto his stomach and used his arms to prop himself up on his knees.

"Good job, Trunks!" Bulma squealed. "Go on, son!"

The baby ignored his mother's cheers. _He was working, after all!_ He began to scan the yard for something that he could crawl to. He had a _lot_ of practicing to do!

* * *

A week later Bulma was rocking baby Trunks to sleep in his room. The sun was setting in the sky outside, and the Bluehead sang softly to the baby as she cradled him in her arms. He'd recovered so well after the surgery. Sure, he'd been lethargic for a few days in the beginning, but ever since that moment in their backyard the baby was doing better than ever. The young mother wasn't sure what it was, but something had sparked a change in Trunks. Perhaps he was trying to get back at her for putting him through the procedure, but he'd been more of a handful than ever. He was crawling more than ever, getting into things, and creating quite a mess of baby chaos at every corner of the Briefs household.

It was when Trunks was finally closing his eyes that Bulma could have sworn she could hear a familiar noise outside. It was distant, but it was certainly there. She carried Trunks to his crib and gently set him down, pulling the covers over the baby as the sound outside grew louder. It was a very distinct noise, and there was only one thing it could possibly be.

"Vegeta..." Bulma breathed. She shot a look out the window to see his figure approaching in the sky. Despite the anguish he'd caused her, despite how bitter she was, it was hard not to feel relived as she watched him land in the grass below the window.

_He'd come back._

After their last encounter she hadn't known when the next time she'd see him would be - or _if_ she would ever see him again at all. Her heart suddenly racing, Bulma turned and ran for the stairs. In an instant she was at the front door, throwing the lock back and running outside.

The saiyan was slowly making his way for the house, and he didn't react when the door opened and the Bluehead came bustling into the yard. He wasn't surprised in the slightest. He'd sensed her ki as she'd made her way through the house, after all. And besides that, s _he always seemed to be throwing herself at him_. He'd have been more surprised if she hadn't gone out to greet him.

When Bulma was within earshot Vegeta calmly spoke. "You've made it convenient for me in coming outside, Woman."

She gave him a questioning look, and she slowed her pace, but she didn't cease to make her way towards him. That sentence alone was enough to raise her defenses. She needed to act carefully, or else he might take off yet again.

"I'm going to be leaving again as soon as I share a few words with you." He continued, confirming her suspicions. The look on his face gave her no doubt that he was being serious, but Bulma wasn't didn't want him to go away so soon. She was will so angry that she wanted to slap him for how he'd treated her. She wanted to lecture him and demand that he apologize. But she also knew that he'd use it as an excuse to storm off once more, and she wasn't ready for that yet. She had a _lot_ to talk to him about.

She needed him to stay.

It was then that instinct seemed to take over, guiding Bulma into doing to only thing that she felt might _not_ turn him away. Without even thinking she stepped closer. "No." She breathed. "Stay." Her voice was soft and assuring, but it was definitely a firm order. She was close enough to him now to wrap her fingers around his wrist, beckoning him towards the house. The soft of her touch and the certainty in her voice had blindsided the saiyan, and feeling her skin instantly put him in a trance. He found himself unable to decline her offer. ' _Perhaps I could stay for a meal.'_ He thought, allowing himself to be pulled into the house. She wasn't acting warm towards him, but she also wasn't being cold. The confidence in the way she held herself intrigued the saiyan, and before they'd even made it to the kitchen Vegeta decided that it wouldn't hurt to even stay the entire night.

Bulma could sense this. She'd refrained herself from yelling at him, and in doing so she'd manage to prevent him from instantly charging away just as soon as he'd come. She smiled to herself, the saiyan unable to see her face as he followed her from behind.

She would finally get to have her talk with him.

_She just hoped he would listen._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, we can officially rename this fanfic to "The Most Frustrating Story Ever Written" now!
> 
> Only three chapters left, and then we start a new story. :) There were lots of emotions and twists in this last batch. I'm going to go hide now! Eek!


	37. The Betrayal

* * *

"I don't feel like having a futile argument with you, so just listen." Vegeta sat with his arms crossed, trying to maintain his distance. Bulma was on the other end of the couch, watching him silently. Of course, when she'd pulled him into the house, the saiyan had been quick to accept a meal from her. It was expected of her and her family to provide food to him - they _always_ had in the past! Vegeta didn't say a word as he ate, and after he finished his feast he'd led her outside to the ship. It was inside that they both now sat on opposite ends of the couch, and there was a tension in the air that made the Bluehead feel uneasy.

"The androids are going to emerge in less than a week." Vegeta continued with monotone. He didn't want emotions to confuse his message, and he didn't want her to find a reason to digress. He simply wanted to express what he had to come to say, and he wanted her to know that he was _serious_ about it.

Of course she'd known. Bulma bit her lip. It'd been in the back of her head ever since that mysterious man had warned Goku about it three years earlier. She'd been suppressing the knowledge, but she'd certainly _known_. Three years had _already_ passed. Time had been so quick to fly by...

"Of course, I will defeat them in a matter of minutes. And the _only_ reason it'll take that long is because I plan to give them a chance to understand how inferior they truly are before I put them out of the misery of their existence."

Bulma didn't respond. She didn't doubt that the androids stood no chance – not between Goku and Vegeta combined. _So why was he telling her this?_ She was suddenly feeling very dreadful, unsure if she even wanted to know what he would say next.

" **But I want you to listen to me now, because I will only say this once**." Vegeta remained calm, but his voice was suddenly slicing through the air like a knife. The sentence resembled a threat more than anything else, and the Bluehead leaned forward as if she might not catch what he was about to say otherwise. "I know how _you_ are, Woman. I will tell you right now not to even think of coming to the battleground."

She couldn't decide if it more because of his words or if it was because of the tone, but Bulma was suddenly offended. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?!" She snapped, her cheeks flushing.

"You know _exactly_ what it means. You do take a liking to the attention you get when you show up to things that are of no concern to you, don't you? Do you not remember how _distracting_ you were when Frieza came to Earth?" The saiyan maintained his cool composure.

"I was _not_!" Bulma retorted. "And anyway, I've been _planning_ to go! I've been waiting for months! I haven't seen anybody for so long! I... I wanted to surprise everyone with Trunks!"

"Enough of your backtalk! I told you to _listen_!" The saiyan's voice was beginning to raise, but only to emphasize his point. He wasn't yelling at her. "It would be stupid of you to put yourself and the boy in a preventable situation like that. If you show up you'll only get in the way. I don't like being distracted during battle, and if you are caught in crossfire it'll be a result of your own foolishness."

"I'm not going to get caught in any crossfire!" Bulma yelled. Everything about Vegeta's words were an insult, and the fact that he was speaking in such an unvarnished manner felt like a slap in the face. "That is _not_ going to happen! And even if it did, I-"

" ** _If_** it did happen, then don't expect me to compromise my advantage in the fight in order to protect you." Vegeta interrupted. "Have one of your _weak_ friends do it. It's not as if they'll be useful during battle, anyway. They'll surely just be standing by and groveling at the depths of my power."

"My friends aren't weak, and they're a hell of a lot more reliable than _you!_ " Bulma snapped, jumping from her seat and flipping her hair back. "At least I know I can depend on them to be around if I need them!"

Vegeta had been trying to remain calm, to keep himself emotionally uninvested in the conversation, but he was starting to look slightly irritated now. There was a tension rising in his shoulders, but for the most part his face remained unadorned. It was as if he'd already thought of and planned every aspect of this conversation, and had even counted on her taking his words with such offense. Bulma could see that he'd already decided on every response he could give to anything she said, and it was getting to her. He was being so hurtful and remaining so stone-faced! She wanted to get a rise out of him! To make him feel protective, jealous, upset! It had been so long since they'd ever seen each other! She just wanted him to show _some_ type of damned concern!

Suddenly all of the pain he'd put her through resurfaced and began to wave through the depths of her body. She was taken all the way back to when he'd bluntly described their intimate moments as "indiscretions" - to how emotionally neglected she'd felt when he'd run off to space and refused to communicate with her. _And_ she was still feeling raw from when he'd stormed off only a few months earlier. _Now,_ on top of everything else, he was sitting in front of her and telling her that he wouldn't protect her if she was in danger - _and_ acting so _damned_ matter of fact about it all?! Bulma was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to get him to react. She wanted him to be emotional. She _knew_ that deep down inside he cared! She wanted him to act like it!

"Well, I have something to tell you, too!" She announced. "I wasn't planning on you finding out like this. In fact, I _tried_ to talk to you about this the last time you came, but you were being a complete _jerk_ and refused to discuss anything with me!"

 _That did it._ Vegeta obviously hadn't planned on _this._ He began to look uneasy now. _This was a turn of events that he hadn't anticipated responding to_. He raised an eyebrow, his eyes widened. He could remember her trying to speak to him about some nonsense involving the infant. The saiyan had just assumed she was going to try to get him to do something silly and time-consuming, such as changing the boy's repulsive diaper. "What are you on about?" The calm in his voice was _finally_ starting to crack, much to her delight.

"Since _you_ seem to insist on being so blunt, I'll just say it!" Bulma shrugged, waving a hand in the air as if she was bored. Now it was _her_ turn to be nonchalant. How did he like it when the tables were turned? "Trunks had a little procedure the other day."

He wasn't sure why he should even care, but his tongue suddenly felt dry. It was obvious by the way she'd been yelling a few moments earlier that the woman was angry with him. And he knew _how_ she acted when she was angry. Whatever she was about to tell him would be aimed at inducing a fight, and as much as he could predict this, it was working. "What?" He asked curtly. He could feel himself losing with his attempts at civility. His patience was thinning, and his heart rate was starting to increase with anticipation of the bombshell she was about to drop. There was an impending surprise, and he wanted her to just spit it out.

"I finally got his tail removed."

The words were a blow he'd never expected, which seemed to knock the wind from his chest and brought Vegeta to his feet. He stood, shaking as the words sank in, his hands balled into fists. "Don't toy with me!" He hissed. His face was starting to turn a pale shade of red, and he was shooting her a dangerous look of warning. "Tell me what happened to the boy, and tell me the truth!"

She'd expected Vegeta to be angry for not being informed before the surgery occurred, despite the fact that she'd tried telling him. But she hadn't predicted that he would react like this. She'd wanted him to show some sort of concern over the baby's well-being, to ask how he was doing and if he was okay... but instead he was looking extremely pissed. His voice was sharp, and Bulma could hear a tone of rage building within that she had never heard him direct towards her before. It was as if he were wanting to confirm that it was true before he allowed himself to completely lose his temper and go crazy. Feeling somewhat in shock by the situation, Bulma took a step back. This was backfiring on her.

"Tell me!" The enraged saiyan snapped again.

Bulma took another step back. _What had she just done?_ "He..." She breathed, her heart sinking as the watched the expression on his face.

"Spit it out!" Vegeta was glowering at her, and she knew that he was getting more angry by the second. She was scared of his rage. It wasn't that she was afraid he'd hit her - she _knew_ he would never physically harm her. She wasn't frightened of that, but of the harshness in his voice, of the inevitable confrontation. The realization that Trunks' tail was so serious to the saiyan that he was going to become _this_ upset. She thought back on how much her parents begged her to wait and talk to Vegeta, and she hadn't listened. _They_ had known.

She was used to having altercations with just about everybody she'd encountered. But she wasn't ready for this. Not with _him._ Not when he was _this_ angry at _her._ "It had to be removed." She finally said.

The man before her didn't seem to take notice of her disheartened body language. His eyebrows furrowed, and she thought she could see the slight throbbing of a vein in his forehead. However, it was the sudden glint in his eyes that really took Bulma by surprise. Yes, he looked more angry than she'd ever seen, but there was something else. A twinge of grief that flashed through his pupils for a brief second before he closed his eyes to hide it away. Sadness that she hadn't ever seen on his face before, the skin on his forehead wrinkling as he took in a deep breath and processed what she said. Bulma waited for him to reply as she watched his chest began to heave, the sound of his breath growing thicker. Her heart was sinking even deeper as she watched, lamenting what she'd done. She'd done what she had decided would be best for Trunks, without the benefit of being able to talk to Vegeta first. But in doing that she hadn't just pissed the saiyan off... she'd _hurt_ him. Seeing his reaction was more heart breaking than she'd ever thought possible. She hadn't meant for it to be taken like _that._ She'd been more than angry with Vegeta for how he'd behaved towards her, but she hadn't meant to _hurt him... Especially_ not when it came to matters that concerned _their_ son...

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the incensed saiyan opened his eyes again and spoke. "Away." He growled.

The Bluehead raised her eyebrows, still in shock by the outcome of her actions. She shot him a questioning look, and it seemed to only disturb the saiyan even more. "Away, Woman! Get out of my sight!"

"It had to be done!" Bulma snapped. When she heard the sniffling in her own voice she realized that she was crying, unable to bear seeing the pain she'd unintentionally caused. She needed to explain it all to him - everything she'd been going through. Maybe then it would take away from his own hurt, and they'd come to a mutual understanding.

Vegeta crossed his arms and turned his back to her. "I want you to leave."

"Vegeta." Bulma tried again, tears streaming down her cheeks at a brisk rate. How was it that she could feel so empathetic to him when he'd put her through so much? She'd tried so hard with him – _always_ trying to see things from his point of view, and now he looked at her as if she'd betrayed him. If only he'd let her explain herself. If only they could talk about it, he'd understand… She went to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Vegeta, please listen..."

Instantaneously Vegeta jumped from her touch, swinging around to face her again. " _Away, Woman_! _What about that do you not understand!"_ Bulma flinched at his volume. _"Go to the house!"_ Vegeta was spitting, turning his back once more. "Go inside! Return to that cave from whence you've come! Tend to _that boy_ inside and **leave me alone**!"

"That's no way to speak of me!" Bulma yelled back. "And _t_ _hat boy_ is your _son!"_

"Oh?" He growled, glaring at her over his shoulder. " _My son?_ You call that boy _my_ son... how can he be my _son_ when you've defiled him of anything he had in common with me."

She wondered if it was possible that she was suddenly as angry as he was. Having an attitude and yelling at her was one thing. She could defend herself - she was a big girl! But she wasn't going to stand for him scorning the baby that she adored so much. "Hey now..." She hissed, her thin blue eyebrows lowering over her eyes. " _Don't_ be an idiot..."

" _Idiot_?!" Vegeta swung around again.

If Bulma hadn't been so mad she would have been frightened by the thunder of his yell. Not only was his voice louder than ever, but the air around the saiyan had begun to sway, his temper and ki rising even higher. "I am the alpha-man. The supreme prince of the almighty _warrior_ race – a **SAIYAN**! And you are going to present me with this _infant. That boy_ never ceases his godawful crying, he has this stringy _human_ hair instead of the thick black mane so symbolic to my people, _and_ the _one_ trait he had to brand him as a saiyan you've castrated him of! **The boy doesn't even have a tail now**! What characteristics does this boy have left that would link him to me, Woman! **_TELL ME THAT_** _!_ "

Bulma's was shaking her head now, a mixture of being stunned at his rant, angered by his words, hurt at his tone, and even remorse she felt for not handling things differently. Without thinking, she made her way to the saiyan and slapped her hand across his face as hard as she could. "How could you say something like that!" She wailed. "He may not have a tail anymore, but he's still _your son!"_ Her palm was throbbing from the impact, but Vegeta hardly felt a sting. He placed a few fingers to his cheek, a derisive smile forming on his lips. The saiyan made sure that his chuckle was loud enough for her to have no doubts about it.

She'd stopped sobbing now, feeling somewhat sobered from her assault on him. "What about me?! I'm not a saiyan! I'm from Earth, and this planet is his _home!_ Did you actually expect him to be brought up on _your_ planet?! To be as to be as heartless as you are!? It doesn't even exist anymore! And oh, so he cries all the time and _doesn't have a tail_! Well, look who's talking! He sounds just like you! _All_ you do is bitch and complain!" She ignored the irony that her words could easily apply to her as well. "I don't ever want to hear you speak about _our son_ like that again, you hear me?! He is _your_ child, and he always will be! The tail doesn't change any of that!"

Vegeta, still having looked amused from Bulma's blow, dropped the smile from his lips. He eyed her coldly, bringing his fingers away from his face. "I am fully aware that he will never set foot on my home planet, woman. Do not underestimate my understanding of how limited the number of remaining saiyans are. Do not remind me of things I already know. And _do_ not betray me and then expect me to take orders from you!"

"Fine, then!" Bulma yelled. She stormed for the ship's door and threw it open. "If that's how you feel, then I'll just _fucking_ go!"

" ** _Good_**!" Vegeta snarled back as the door slammed shut. Bulma could hear commotion going on inside the ship as she marched through the yard. She attributed it to him blowing off steam. She wasn't crying any more, but as she made her way closer to her room she could feel the tears re-emerging. The house was dark and silent, her family having retired to their beds for the night. As she crept up the stairs, the last words Vegeta had spoken were cutting into her like a knife, and she was beginning to feel incredibly wretched.

_Betray._

He really did think of it as if she'd betrayed him. _He'd_ been the one to abandon his family, so why did _she_ feel so terrible? Even after the harsh things he'd said about Trunks, she felt uneasy as she threw herself into her bed. The image of his pained face after her breaking the news to him replayed in her mind, and she bit her lip to keep from sniffling as she sobbed. She was beyond angry at him, but why did she also feel so bad? Why was it that she felt this way when he had been the one to say such things?

" _Do not underestimate my understanding of how limited the number of remaining saiyans are_ " His words circled in her ears like a broken record, and the more she heard them the more they were analyzed. How _lonely_ must it feel to have your native planet destroyed, and to be one of the last living people on it? Vegeta never complained of his own tail missing, but perhaps it had meant more to him than he ever let on… It was a reflection of his race. His _people._

" _The one trait he had to brand him as a saiyan you've castrated him of_." His words – they'd said it, and she'd been too busy defending Trunks that she hadn't thought how Vegeta must have felt. She hadn't thought that removing his tail was anything more than just getting rid of an unnecessary body part – such as one would do with wisdom teeth. She'd never realized how cherished the tail was to a saiyan. The tail had been something that Vegeta felt that he and Trunks had in common, and she'd taken it away. But she hadn't known! How could she have known when he'd never told her?

Had she destroyed something that Vegeta felt symbolized his and Trunks' bond? She hadn't meant to do anything that he'd see as a betrayal, and perhaps that was what bothered her the most. If she'd known how deeply the tail meant to him, she wouldn't have done it. Of course she wouldn't have! Bulma needed Vegeta to see that... She needed him to know that, regardless of what had happened, her intentions weren't to hurt him! Removing Trunks' tail hadn't been a malicious act! If he still wanted to be upset, then that was his choice, but she didn't want him to have an inauthentic idea of what had happened.

A horrific thought crossed her mind then.

He was going to leave again. _If he left feeling as scorned as he did, would he ever come back?_ Bulma suddenly sat upright, throwing the blankets off in a frenzy. The possibility of him departing in a fury was not implausible. How many times had he done it before? This time he was so mad that he really might _not ever_ return! She couldn't bear the idea of their last conversation being so horrendous. His last memory of her being so cold and selfish. Her last memory of him being so brute. She needed to speak to Vegeta, to try and create some kind of understanding. She wanted to get him to listen – to see things from her point of view. To understand why she'd done it. To know that it wasn't intended as a _betrayal._

Normally, after a fight like this, she'd be inclined to maintaining her distance and waiting for him to be the one to come around. But there wasn't any time for that - she couldn't let her ego dictate her actions with this one. She had to try and look beyond her own pride.

Bulma was fast as she made her way through the house, not caring if she woke any of the sleeping inhabitants. Her worst fear at that moment was that she'd make it to the back door just in time to see Vegeta taking off into the night sky. She _needed_ to get to him before it was too late.

* * *


	38. Gone For Good

* * *

 

The backyard was dimly lit with the porch light, and Bulma was relieved not to see Vegeta preparing for take off as she threw the door open and ran outside. When she realized that she was alone and he wasn't getting ready to fly away, she slowed her pace into a walk. Her breath was shallow as her bare feet stepped through the damp grass, and she approached the ship with fear.

_What if he's already left, and the ship will be empty?_

_What if he's in there, and he refuses to listen to anything I try to say?_

Distraught, she pressed her palm against the ship's door, her heart pounding in her ears. She paused, preparing herself for the pain she'd feel if the ship were empty inside. With a count of three, she pulled open the door...

_Silence._

There was no response from within when Bulma stepped into the ship. Her worst fears true, Bulma scanned the interior as tears welled in her eyes. Vegeta was nowhere to be seen. She had missed her only chance to try and make things right. Her knees began to tremble under her weight, and she felt as if she would faint at any second. He was going to remember her as nothing more than a traitor, which was so unlike anything she was. "Vegeta..." She breathed. Feeling as if she would have an anxiety attack, she made her way to the couch that she'd been sitting on with the saiyan a few moments earlier. Laying down and groaning, Bulma brushed her cheek against the cushion.

_It still smelled like him._

Nothing could compare to how hopeless and alone she felt in that moment. There would never be a fate worse than losing a loved one over a misunderstanding, with no chance of clearing things up or having any sense of closure.

She wasn't sure how long it was that she lay on the couch, lamenting how complicated and terrible things had become, but she stirred when she heard a loud noise coming from the back of the ship.

"Woman! I _told_ you to leave!"

Bulma jumped when she heard his voice burst through the room so suddenly. Frantically wiping the tears from her eyes, she looked up to see Vegeta's face peeking at her from behind the bathroom door. _The bathroom!_ She hadn't even remembered that the ship had one! Feeling somewhat dumb, she sat up and smoothed out her shirt.

"Well?" Vegeta snapped. "Take your disruptions somewhere else!"

Bulma stood up then. "I- I wanted to talk to you." She breathed, feeling flustered. She could hardly believe that she was looking at his face after being so sure she might not ever see it again. Vegeta's expression soured even more than it already had been, and it appeared that the pulsing vein from earlier was returning to his forehead. "What is it with you?!" He barked. "Has your native language suddenly ceased you, or are you just too daft to not understand simple requests!?" It was then that he pushed the door open to reveal his naked figure - his private bits covered with a towel that was wrapped around his waist.

The sight was such a pleasant surprise that it helped ease the blow of his harsh words, and Bulma felt her cheeks flush with heat. For a moment she forgot what she'd been wanting to say to him, her eyes trailing over the creases of his muscles. Vegeta was so angry that he didn't even realize she was checking him out. All he could see was that she was dumbly staring at him, and he growing impatient. He cleared his throat loudly, gritting his teeth in irritation.

It was then that she found her words. "Please listen to me." She said softly, as she began to step towards him. Just as it had when she had pulled him into the house after he'd arrived, instinct was taking over and starting to guide her actions. A little voice in her head was dictating her behavior, telling her what she could do to calm the Saiyan enough to have a reasonable conversation with him. "I don't want to fight with you, please-"

" **I have _nothing_ to speak with you about! ** I have absolutely _no_ desire to even breathe the same air as you!" Vegeta stepped back as if to emphasize his point.

"Vegeta," Bulma sighed. "You _know_ that isn't true... You do _care_ about me…"

" ** _Don't tell me how I feel_** _!"_ The saiyan barked.

Bulma paused, analyzing his face. She considered her words before continuing. "You... You care about me. You care about this world! You can really stand there and say that you don't?"

"I don't give a damn at all." Vegeta snapped back.

"Oh?" Bulma was finding it hard to not take offense. He certainly was good at being harsh when he wanted to. "If that's true, then why have you spent so long training to protect the Earth from the androids? Why have you put so much effort in trying to make sure we all stay safe?"

It was then that Vegeta sighed in exasperation. He stepped into the room, marching up to Bulma. She eyed his chest as he approached, biting the inside of her cheek. _He looked so good... Better than the last time she'd seen his bare torso. All of that training during his time away had certainly been good on his body!_ When Vegeta was close, he leaned to be eye-level with her, his nose nearly brushing across her own. "Get it through your dull brain." He growled. "I am training in order to surpass Kakarot. No more and no less. This planet could perish, for all I care. I do not regard it as anything more than a mere pit stop on a dirty end of the galaxy. And once I have asserted my superiority over that disgrace you call _Goku_ , I will leave this filth-ridden world for once and for all. That has _always_ been my plan."

Her face warmed when his breath hit it as he spoke. The odor of his skin threatened to distract her once more. She shook her head, fighting the urge to throw herself at him. "No... That's not true..."

"Oh? What makes you so sure?" Vegeta smirked coyly and turned, making his way back to the bathroom. "Even as I hand the truth to you, you still choose to be wistful. Your naivety will be your downfall someday." Once he reached the bathroom door he grabbed the knob. "Now leave, and let me shower in silence without your _relentless_ weeping!" He barked, slamming the door behind him.

Bulma listened as he prepared his shower in the other room. ' _It isn't true_.' She thought as the water was turned on. She'd never considered what he would do once the androids were defeated. Since the beginning - when she first offered her home to him and he stubbornly trained for hours on end, he'd been planning that. When they shared intimacies? When he got caught in a moment of weakness, and she could see him looking at her with such admiring eyes? Had he _really_ been planning to leave Earth the whole time?

There was just no way!

 _'But, of course it's true!_ ' The other side of her brain insisted. ' _Have his actions **ever** indicated otherwise? He comes and goes as if he has no emotional connection to anything! He never even said he was going to stay!'_

She shook her head. Ever since she'd offered her home to Vegeta, Bulma had always given him the benefit of the doubt. She was always trying to look at things from his perspective - as much as she possibly could. Whenever she heard someone criticizing him, she'd always come to his defense. She'd always told everyone, and herself, that he was misunderstood - that there was more to him than he was willing – or able - to show.

 _'But his actions haven't always been bad!'_ She reminded with her own mind. ' _What about when he stood by me as I gave birth? What about how jealous he gets at the mention of Yamcha's name! What about the way... he's touched me? He couldn't have done something like that if he had no connection to me!'_

_... Right?_

The sound of a loud thud snapped Bulma from her thoughts. She listened as Vegeta cursed to himself about that "damned soap", which evidently seemed to insist on slipping from his grasp each time he attempted to use it.

 _She was going to miss him..._ She didn't want to believe it, but there really was a possibility that his words were true. He was going to leave Earth forever, and despite how hostile he'd acted towards her at times - especially recently - she was going to miss him. She was never going to forget his attitude. His face...

_That chest... Oh, if only she could feel his chest against hers one last time..._

She needed to try again. She needed him to hear her out before he left. She needed to do what she could to have a proper conversation with him! Instinct had begun to take control of Bulma's body. She hardly noticed when she slipped out of her clothes and slowly made her way to the bathroom door...

* * *

Vegeta had his eyes closed and was facing the falling drops, taking in a deep breath as he tried to ward the Woman away from his mind. Even as he attempted this, his eyebrows furrowed with pure frustration when he heard her slip into the room. _'She doesn't listen to a word I say!_ ' He thought. She'd put him through so much bullshit that night. _All_ he wanted was to take a shower and try to clear his mind enough to sleep. She'd always been annoyingly persistent - not one to back down when somebody told her to. He was _not_ in the mood for it.

He was furiously rubbing soap into his shoulder, trying to ignore her presence, when the screen door slid open behind him. _What was she doing?! He hadn't expected her to actually invade his shower!_ He turned around, using his free hand to wipe water from his brows before opening his eyes. He was ready to yell at her to leave him alone once again, but when he saw her his eyes widened, a spark suddenly flaring from within.

Bulma dropped her face then, suddenly feeling too shy to make eye contact. She was standing before him naked, and she looked down to her thighs, wondering if he'd noticed that she hadn't lost all of her pregnancy weight yet. Vegeta's frame acted a shield between her and that stream of water, so she was still relatively dry.

His eyes still wide, he took another step towards her. She looked good – she looked _real_ ly good...

Was she... Was she _offering_ herself to him? He'd just given her the blunt truth that she'd never see him again after the fight with the Androids. And yet she was still _presenting_ herself to him like this? The idea of her behaving in such a way was enough to distract Vegeta from the shower he'd been so focused on taking. "I suppose you think that this makes things amicable between us?" He exhaled, his voice low. He took another step to her, his eyes running up and down her skin. He hadn't seen Bulma's naked body for so long - and never had he seen it in this _state._ The way her skin was glistening as it became saturated, her nipples hardening defensively as drops of water scattered on her form.

There was a tone in his voice that Bulma had hoped to hear, and it gave her enough confidence to look up. He stepped even closer, and she could tell by the familiar look in his eyes that a _certain matter_ was certainly on his mind. She fought back a smirk, thinking that she'd benefit from this in more than one way. Perhaps this would be the thing to finally work in getting him to listen. "Of course not! You think I _want_ to make things right with you? Don't flatter yourself." Bulma bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning, "I need a shower too, and you're hogging all of the hot water!" She declared, poking him in the chest and giving him a light push.

"Good." Vegeta stepped to the side, allowing the fall to splash directly onto her chest. "This doesn't change a _thing_." He slapped the brick of soap onto her right breast. "I detest you, _woman._ " He slowly began to rub it in a circular motion against her flesh, enjoying how the soap seemed to sink into her chest while he moved.

"I know you do." She glared _,_ placing a gentle hand over his bicep.

Vegeta had now dropped the brick of soap by his feet (resulting in another loud thud) and was using both of his calloused hands to massage the suds over her bosom. He was feeling somewhat mesmerized by the hypnotic motion that they made as he worked. His eyes were glued to her breasts, which swayed against each other as he rubbed, the light continuing to reflect off of them as he massaged them clean. Bulma was fighting back a smile, bringing her hands up to clasp Vegeta's face as he concentrated. Still in his daze, the saiyan responded to her touch by slowly looking up to her blue irises. Neither of them spoke as he continued to rub her - they just watched one another as the water fell over them, splashing partially onto Vegeta's back and partially onto Bulma's front.

She wasn't counting the seconds that went by, but after a while Bulma decided to break the silence. "I think you're a total jerk." It wasn't completely a lie - Vegeta really could be a handful sometimes. Especially during their recent fights, she'd definitely seen the worst in him. But still, when he was in a better mood he was more than kind - in his own way. In fact, he was the _sweetest jerk_ that she had ever known, and she was now playing along with the air of hostility that he was trying so hard to maintain.

The saiyan responded by tracing one hand to the back of her head. "Likewise." He growled, pulling her in to crash his lips against hers. Bulma held his face even tighter between her hands, opening her mouth to allow their tongues to reunite. They quickly found a rhythm together, his tongue sliding over her lower lip before continuing to explore her mouth. It felt so good, their bodies closing in on one another. She had been craving this interaction for _so long_ , and she could tell by his behavior that he'd been lusting for it too.

His left hand was teasing her nipple between his fingertips, the other holding her head firmly in place as he ravished her mouth. And he seemed perfectly content to stay like that for quite a while, but it was when she pressed her hips into his, brushing against his excitement as she did so, that a switch seemed to flip with him. He pulled away from her promptly, losing the mesmerized glint in his eyes. Instead it was replaced with something else - a fire that seemed to come from an even deeper place within. Swiftly he grasped both of her arms and held them at her sides. He swung her around so that her body was completely under the waterflow. She let out a gasp from the jolt of it, instantly feeling aroused as the stream hit her over the head and ran down her body. He held her firmly in place, her hair dripping as she listened to the flow crash around her. She was now completely drenched, feeling engulfed by the water as she obediently stood in place and accepted the rinsing that he was giving her. There was no attempt to break free. She would do whatever he wanted her to...

"I thought your purpose for invading my shower was to bathe yourself" He growled obnoxiously. He let go of her with one hand so that he could brush it over her rear, as if to confirm it was sodden before giving it a light slap. Bulma was taken aback by his forceful behavior, though she was enjoying it.

When he decided that she was doused enough the saiyan pulled her out from underneath the flow, quickly swinging her around once more and pressing her frontside into the wall opposite of the shower head. She put her hands against the tile to brace herself. She could feel the prince's wet chest firmly against her back, his hands gripping her hips, his erection jabbing into her rear. He leaned in to press his lips against her right ear, letting out a slow and warm breath that clapped her skin. "Is that what you wanted, you _deviant?_ "

"Mmm-hmm," Bulma murmured. _He'd never spoken to her like this before_...

She gyrated her rear, trying to tease Vegeta's excitement with it. The saiyan refused to let himself gasp an approval, though he more than enjoyed the feel. His hands were once again caressing her backside before planting it with another slap, this time with a little more force. Bulma swayed to show her enthusiasm, and before she knew it he had wrapped his arms around her. He still had his lips close to her ear, and she could still feel the hot air of his breath on her cheek as his inhales grew sharper. The Bluehead attempted to turn her head to eye the man behind her. His face was too close to her, however, so the attempt was in vain.

"No." He pressed her even closer into the tiled wall, causing the soaked girl to gasp as he continued to hold her in place.

All that the woman could do was sigh, chills running down her spine as he simultaneously began to grind against her. "You think you can do whatever you want with no repercussions, don't you?" He muttered, his breaths growing sharper. All that Bulma could do was groan an inaudible response, unable to cope with the teasing he was giving her body.

Suddenly, without warning, she felt his fingers digging at the perfect spot. She would have thrown her head back if she could have, gasping at the feel of his rough hands penetrating her most delicate body part. Vegeta did this without speaking another word, his hard breaths hitting her shoulder as his fingers explored. "Yes," she sighed. "That's really good..."

"What do I care?" Vegeta growled before nipping at her shoulder. "You think that I do this in an effort to please _you_?"

She had still been using her hands to brace herself against the wall, and she pulled one down so she could reach behind and slide it between their bodies. She wanted to return the favor. The space between the two was so tight that she could hardly brush her fingers against his excitement that was digging into her flesh. Nevertheless a primal groan erupted from within the back of his throat. Bulma's face lit up with a small grin, feeling pleased with his reaction. The saiyan stepped back slightly, firmly gripping her hips. Not another word was to be spoken from him - he was done talking for a while. She could feel him positioning himself against her, and she bit her lip in anticipation.

It was then that he took her under the fall of the shower, pulling her hips into his as he sealed their fate. She'd taken a liking to biting into the arch between his neck and shoulder when they'd commenced their intimacies in the past. This time she didn't have that option, her cheek pressed against the tile. So instead she let out moan, loud and wavering, squeezing her eyes shut and reveling in the sensation. _Thank Kami they were in the ship where nobody could hear..._

How powerful it made him feel to be doing as he pleased with _his_ Woman, and to just have her begging him for more all the while. Of course he was going to oblige to the requests she spewed in her state of frenzy. But it was begrudgingly. Despite how ravenous he felt, how overwhelming it was to be inside of her once again, he was still _angry_. Seducing him as he cleansed himself was not going to make things right between them. He _refused_ to let things go so easily. And, on top of everything else, it irritated him that he still felt the need to hold himself back. ' _You're much more strong than you were the last time you did this.'_ His head was reminding. ' _Be careful with her.'_ He thought, as the woman simultaneously let out another desperate moan.

 _Damn, that moan..._ It only seemed to encourage Vegeta, his need to be angry temporarily fading as the urgency he was feeling inside grew. He found himself completely lost in the moment then, his only focus was how good it all felt. How good he wanted to _continue_ to feel. _No, he wasn't going to forgive her so easily._ He wasn't going to forget what she'd done to him. But she was giving herself to him, and he was going to accept her offer while he could. He'd been craving this since he'd returned from space and back then _she'd_ been the one to refuse him. Now he was finally getting what he'd desired for so long, and he was going to enjoy it. She knew exactly what she was doing. She'd chosen to strip off her clothes and invade his shower, even after he'd told her that he was going to leave for good. He'd done his part in being upfront with her...

 _But oh, the way she squirmed under him as his thrusts became more fierce - she was enjoying this too_! Somehow the thought of her finding pleasure from the manner that he _used_ her body with only encouraged him even more... _Damn that woman!_ How was it that she could control him like this?!

The urgency he felt, the friction between their bodies, and the sound of her whimpers made for a good combination. It didn't take long for him to reach his peak, and he _really_ hated how indulgent his voice sounded when he groaned in her ear as he finished. He wasn't sure if Bulma had been able to reach her own place of satisfaction, and when he stepped back from her he _told_ himself not to care.

_She betrayed his trust._

_Why should he concern himself of her needs?_

He thought this. He _told_ himself this. So why was it that he so was pleased to hear how breathless she was? To see the blissful look of fulfillment on her face when she turned back around to kiss him? Why did he so willingly allow her to rub soap into his skin as he rinsed himself off from the dirty act they'd both just taken part in? Why was it that he followed her lead when she turned off the water and handed him a towel? Why did he obediently follow when she wrapped her fingers around his wrist and pulled him to the bathroom door?

 _'I'll never forgive her.'_ He told himself with a gulp, as she lead him out into the main room of the ship.


	39. A Bright Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a long author's note at the end of this chapter. I've been really nervous about posting these later chapters, because I know exactly how much of a mess everyone is in them. Goodness, I can't believe I'm finally doing it! Time to go get some fresh air and shake off my jitters!
> 
> I say it in the note at the end of the chapter, but I wanted to say it here as well. Thank you so much, to everyone who took the time to read the story. I am still new to AO3 but my experience with this website has been nothing but amazing. Thank you. :)

* * *

 

 _'Wow.'_ Bulma thought. She was sitting in the ship, on the captain's bed, running a brush through her shoulder length hair. A strange mix of exhilaration and peace was flowing through her veins. Her heart was still pounding from the events that had taken place in the shower just moments before. As she sobered up from the lust she'd been blinded with and her mind cleared, she began to remember why she'd gone looking for him in the first place. All she'd wanted was the chance to talk to him one last time - and things had completely strayed from their original course. How was it that simply seeing his nude chest had done it to her?

Vegeta stood a few feet away from the bed, viciously running the towel over his hair. He was so utterly angry and hurt by her behavior that he didn't know how to even process it. But still, he'd been craving Bulma - he'd been craving her for a _long_ time. He'd been suppressing his urges for her since before Trunks was born, and he hadn't been able to control himself when she'd walked in on him during his wash. There had been many times when he'd found himself struggling with sexual frustration when she'd stepped too close to him. The only thing that had held him back from pulling her into his arms during those occasions was the fact that she'd told him that she didn't want to do it. So, the shock he felt when he heard her actually _step_ into the mist of the shower - the spark that ran through his body and took away his breath when he turned and saw her standing before him as an open invitation...

He'd been brutal, trying to make a point to her of how angry he was. Yet even after everything he'd told her she'd stubbornly continued her pursuit on him. _And it had worked..._ Everything in his core was against what she'd done to Trunks, and yet she'd so easily distracted him from his rage. _How was it that she could do it to him?_

"What do you want from me, Woman?" Vegeta suddenly asked. His voice was dripping with perplexity. The saiyan was eying her suspiciously as he now rubbed the towel over his body. Her back was turned to him, her own towel wrapped tightly around her figure in the form of a snug dress. She looked perfectly calm, slowly running the brush through her damp hair. She took in a deep breath before softly responding to his question. "What do you mean? What do you think I want from you?"

Dropping the towel to the floor, Vegeta hastily pulled his boxers up his legs. "Why are you so relentless, even after I tell you of my plans?" He felt as if he were trying to understand the answer to a complicated puzzle. It was true - Bulma was more strong willed than this! The things he'd said should have erupted a fury in her that he'd seen many times before. He couldn't put his finger on how to describe her behavior... she was acting so... _so... unperturbed._

"Why should I trust anything you say?" Bulma hummed, feeling just as surprised as Vegeta was with how calm she sounded when she spoke. _Sure_ , he might have a good reason to be upset with her if Trunks' tail meant _that_ much to him. But he didn't have to use such harsh words. _He didn't have to lash out like a child..._ She knew this inside, and yet there was a strange instinct within that was forcing her to remain calm. She had to choose her actions carefully with Vegeta when he was this angry, or else everything might go into smoke. It seemed that even her muscles were aware of this. She done what was instinct to her, because she knew it would calm him enough to allow them to talk. He could be mad at her all he wanted, but _she_ wanted him to understand her side. The last thing she wanted was for him to explode again without hearing her out. He was _going_ to listen to her.

"This wouldn't be the first time you've broken a promise you made." Bulma continued, tossing her hairbrush aside. She turned to eye the saiyan, who was now pulling a shirt over his head. When he heard her words he looked up incredulously - was she _really_ trying to turn the tables on him? "What rubbish are you speaking now?" He groaned. _He_ was the one who had a reason to be angry after the way she'd emasculated their son!

"Think about it. Don't you remember what you said to me in my room before you left to go train? You told me you wouldn't be gone for long... You didn't even go into space." Bulma stood from the bed, adjusting her towel to make sure it didn't fall from around her. "And how many weeks was it that you disappeared for, Vegeta? How long did you actually stay when you came back - was it even an hour? All you did was shower and eat. I _begged_ you to stay, didn't I? And how did you treat me for it? You're hot and cold, Vegeta. So how can I trust anything you say? How can I believe you now?"

 _Dammit!_ He knew it! She really _was_ turning the tables on him! Vegeta eyed the woman from the side as she waited silently for him to respond. It seemed that she _always_ knew _exactly_ what to say to catch him off guard. As a matter of fact, he hadn't thought twice about that scene from the yard. Looking back on it, his memory from that day was a bit hazy. All he could remember was that he had one thing on his mind - and that was to continue training. It was all he'd been doing for days, and he'd only wanted to continue to be as productive with his time as possible. The Woman knew how he was when he got into _his zone!_ So why was she trying to give him grievances over it? "You know how I am when I train..." He finally grunted. "I wasn't gone for that long..."

"You weren't gone for _that_ long?!" _This_ was enough to snap Bulma out of her tranquil state. She grabbed the hairbrush that she'd tossed on the bed and turned, swinging at Vegeta with all her might. The saiyan barely flicked his wrist to catch the brush in midair, smirking slightly in amusement. _She tried so hard, yet she was so weak... Human women had such laughable strength._

"You _do_ realize that Trunks was only a few weeks old when you left, right!?" Bulma barked. "Do you even _know_ how old he is now?!" She crossed her arms. "Do you want to guess?!"

The saiyan didn't respond right away. His brain flew as he tried to calculate the child's age. ' _Let's see…'_ He thought. ' _The androids are going to show themselves in less than a week. And the boy was born in…'_

Bulma cut his thought process off. "He's just turned eleven months! It's been nearly _five_ months since you left me alone in my yard! So, how long do you think you were gone before _that_ happened?! Do the math!"

The saiyan turned his head slightly to hide his reaction. _Had it really been that long?_ No, it couldn't have been! He'd been aware that time had passed, he'd been counting down the days so he would know when to return for the Androids... But, somehow in his mind, it'd only felt like a few weeks... Surely it hadn't ten months since he'd left!

_...Had it...?_

Bulma placed her hands on her hips. She'd seen the surprised look on his face. "You mean to tell me you _really_ didn't know?! How is it possible to lose track of time for nearly _ten_ months?!" Somehow she was feeling more hurt than she was when she'd thought he was just being a jerk. If he'd been able to go _that_ long without realizing it, maybe she really _wasn't_ a priority to him after all. Training in solitude had made him _that_ unaware of time? "Seriously, you're like some kind of an addict! You could be _almost_ sweet, and as soon as you go off to workout you get into these bad moods. You turn into a completely different person when you've been training!"

"Training doesn't put me in a bad mood - the disruptions is what does it!" Vegeta snapped. He wasn't going to tolerate being put on the spot. _He_ was supposed to be angry with her for what she'd done to Trunks! Now she was suddenly painting _him_ as the bad guy for something he hadn't consciously done to her? All he'd ever known in life was how to train and destroy - and he'd had the biggest challenge in productively training ever since he'd started staying on the Earth. Finally, after years, he'd been successful at clearing his mind enough to work with maximum efficiency. This was something he wanted to be proud of, and instead she was attempting to inflict him with guilt because he hadn't been careful enough to keep track of time. "You _know_ that I _only_ came to Earth to train! Do not pester me for working towards my goals!" He snapped, his cheeks red. "And if you have such a problem with the way I am, then why did you invade my shower and allow me to take your body!?"

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "I could ask you the same! If I'm such a distraction to you - if you're _so_ angry with me - then why did _you_ act so happy to see me!?"

The silence that fell over the spaceship said it all, and the two stared at each other wordlessly.

 _'Exactly_.' Bulma thought with a nod, running a hand through her damp hair. "Right after Trunks was born I would have been fine with you coming and going. I knew we weren't going to work as a couple. It just wasn't our time. But just being able to see you, even for just a short period, made me so happy. I've told you this before, and I wasn't lying, Vegeta... I _love_ you..."

That sentence made his entire body clench as he balled his hands into fists. Yes, he'd definitely heard her say it to him on two other occasions. Each time that she'd told him he'd managed to suppress the knowledge, uncomfortable with the sense of responsibility that it gave him. Hearing the words yet again brought up a new reaction within, and he was unable to hold back from expressing it. " _Love_ does not constitute betrayals, woman." He spat. He could feel the sweat on his forehead as he fought back the intense urge in his stomach to shout. _How dare she speak of such a thing when she obviously couldn't be trusted?_

"Shut up and listen!" Bulma snapped back. This conversation was no longer about trying to get him to see her point of view when it came to Trunks' tail. There was now so much more to it that just _that._ "I didn't mean any harm when Trunks had his tail removed! Now, a _s I was saying -_ a few months ago I would have been fine with you coming and going as you pleased!" She cleared her throat, her voice falling back into the calm tone she'd previously been speaking with. "But you know - the more I think about it, the more I hate it. Trunks and I need stability. He doesn't need a father that's going to pop in and out of his life only when it's convenient for him. He doesn't need to watch the way you act and think it's okay. I want Trunks to be more respectful than that. He needs a strong role model in his life, and I've realized that you can't be that to him - _especially_ after tonight. So, if you want to leave Earth for good after you beat the Androids, then fine. Maybe we'll all be better off in the long run without you. When I removed Trunks' tail I was trying to do what I felt would be right for him. He's going to be _raised_ on Earth, after all. With my family name and the way he will be brought up, he's going to have a hard enough time making as it is. Our son is going to accomplish great things, regardless of anything that could be thrown at him. But all I wanted was for him to have _some_ type of normalcy in his life. I just wanted to remove something unnecessary that was going to cause a harder time than he's going to already have."

"What?!" Vegeta spat. " _Unnecessary!?_ How _dare_ you describe a saiyan's tail as unnecessary!" Her speech had done nothing to make him less angry, and as she detailed removing his tail it only made him feel worse. "How dare you speak as if this excuses anything!"

"I only want you to know my side of things! I just don't want you to think of me as a backstabber!"

 _Backstabber?_ The saiyan raised his eyebrows. This was a term he hadn't heard before. _Backstabber_. A... stab in the back? Why, yes... That was a good way to define how Vegeta felt when he thought of what she'd done. Metaphorically it really did seem as if she's dug a knife into his back when he it was turned and he had no chance to defend himself. Simply thinking of how true this Earth term _backstabber_ was, was setting him off. "How could I not think of you as a **back-stabber**." Vegeta said the word as if he were struggling to speak a language he'd only just learned - as if he were not fully confident that the word was being used in the right context. "Of course you are nothing more than a **back-stabber** to me!"

"That isn't fair!" Bulma retorted. "I wasn't purposely doing anything wrong! How was I supposed to know it would upset you so much?!"

" _You_ made the decision to defile the boy without consulting me."

"I _tried_ to speak to you about it, and you just flew away as if I were some foul thing that you didn't want to touch!" Bulma was nearly screaming now. How could Vegeta be _this_ unreasonable? He'd been hurtful with the way he'd reacted, and even then she was still trying to understand his point of view and make amends. Couldn't he do the same and, just once, see her side of things?

The saiyan crossed his arms and turned his back to her. "You shouldn't have done it without consulting me."

"But I _tried_ , Vegeta? Why aren't you listening to me?" _How can he be this stubborn?_ Bulma thought. The guilt she'd encountered when she'd empathized with his emotions was now turning into anger. She'd tried _so_ hard to understand where he was coming from, even when he was at his worst. She'd been doing it ever since he'd started staying with her - almost three years earlier. She'd seen so much good in him - and she still could. She could _see_ that he cared more about Trunks than he was willing to admit. She had _seen_ the way he reacted in her room when she'd told him they couldn't be a couple after he'd abandoned her to go to space. She'd seen that, when she said they couldn't work out as a couple, it was interpreted as a loss. And she could see that, despite the good nature that was deep inside, he'd built up walls. But what she couldn't see was _why._

Bulma backed away from the saiyan, making her way across the ship. On the floor next to the bathroom door was a pile of the clothes she'd pulled from her body before going after Vegeta in the shower. She picked them up, shutting herself inside the bathroom to get dressed in privacy.

When she emerged back into the main cabin Vegeta was still avoiding eye contact with her. Bulma could hardly care. She'd finally been able to say her piece, whether he wanted to listen or not. Now there would be no regrets if she never spoke to him again, and she understood fully that with Vegeta came a _lot_ of things she didn't want in a relationship. This was not how she wanted to spend the rest of her life.

"I know you and Goku will take care of the Androids for us." The Bluehead said stiffly, giving the back of the his head one last look as she made her way to the main door of the ship. "Have a good life."

* * *

The sun was already starting to rise from behind the clouds as Bulma stepped back into her yard. There was an anger, a hurt inside that Vegeta was being so stubborn. Yet there was also a peace in knowing this. She'd tried to get over him many times before, but there had always been a twinge of hope that he would come to terms with himself enough to open up to her. To allow her to do the same with him. After trying all she could and getting no results from their dispute, she now had a sense of closure in knowing there was no hope left for him at all. He couldn't be relied on enough to make a relationship work – he wasn't able to fathom taking care of anyone but _himself._

With one last look at the ship, Bulma shook her head before stepping into the Briefs residence. Quietly making her way up the stairs, she felt less weight on her shoulders with each step. Even if she never saw him again, at least she'd been able to elaborate about Trunks' tail. He could think of her as a traitor all he wanted, but at least deep down inside he'd know her side of things.

Inside his nursery Trunks was fast asleep, having dreamed his night away. He'd been exhausted after a long day of training. He'd used chairs and couches to prop himself up against, but it seemed that no matter how hard he tried he always fell when he let go. Why was it so hard to keep his balance when he attempted to stand up on two feet - he was only trying to stand just like everyone else around him did?! Bulma crept into the nursery, quietly eying Trunks in his crib. The baby had his face turned away from her, his little chest rising and falling as he slept. The loving mother smiled and reached into the crib, careful not to wake him as she lifted him away. ' _I love you so much.'_ She thought, walking with him to her bedroom.

It was only a few moments later that Bulma was laying her head down on her pillow, Trunks nuzzled into her side. The baby cooed, tossing and turning his head and smacking his lips as he found comfort in his new position. The sun was now settled in the sky, and it would only be a matter of time before he would wake up. She was going to have to face the day without having gotten a wink of sleep! It was hard for Bulma to mind, though. She'd been through a lot, but she was glad to finally have settled things with Vegeta. She and Trunks had a bright future ahead of them, and Bulma was excited to spend the day with the real _love_ of her life.

 _Her son_.

She didn't even know that she'd fallen asleep, let alone how long she'd been snoozing for. But Bulma was awakened when she could feel the baby beside her stirring. His little eyes were popped open and he was looking around, wondering how he'd ended up in his mother's bed. He could have _sworn_ he'd been in his crib when he'd fallen asleep! It was then that Trunks realized his mom was actually right beside him! He turned, giving her a dreamy grin.

"Good morning, sweetie." Bulma whispered, smiling back. "Are you hungry? Let's get you something to eat. You've got a big day ahead of you. And tomorrow you get to meet some new friends! I think you'll _really_ like Gohan..."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, there it is. I hope you aren't disappointed with how this story ended. I know it's not the typical ending that some other stories may have, but this really is how I envisioned the events of the three year gap to unfold. While this story may have parts that drift from canon, I tried to keep it fairly close to the anime as I went. We all know that Bulma and Vegeta aren't on good terms during the Android Saga, and I did my best to perhaps explain why that may have been. Of course, there is going to be a follow up story to this one which will provide a lot more closure, and I'll be posting the first chapter of that before too long.
> 
> Vegeta is hard in these last chapters, and I know it must have been irritating to read. While I do believe he cares inside and I try to show that throughout this story, I also believe that he has a lot of trouble handling his emotions and it results in him lashing out a lot. He has lived the majority of his life unable to show any type of emotion other than anger, or else he is seen as weak. He has to finally take a hard look at himself when he realizes he isn't strong enough to defeat the Androids or Cell, when he interacts with Future Trunks, when he watches Goku sacrifice himself. He has time to cool off about what has happened between him and Bulma and realizes he didn't handle things in the best of ways. To me, this is where that level of growth we see happen in later episodes really starts. For Vegeta, he is upset that Trunks' tail has been removed, but it runs much more deep than that and in this story he's not yet ready to face it. He uses training and acting brute as a way to mask it all.
> 
> As far as Bulma's behavior is concerned, it wasn't my intention to make her appear so "spineless", but rather she is doing her best to try and make things work. How long was she with Yamcha, even after all of their issues? She takes her relationships seriously and she is able to see the cause of her and Vegeta's issues, which is primarily communication, and that's why she's trying so hard to work through that. But it takes two for a relationship to work, and Vegeta isn't yet ready for that. Aside from her and Vegeta's issues, she is emotional in general because that is what can happen to a new mother. Not all new mothers have the same experience, but it is not unheard of to be extremely emotional during pregnancy and postpartum. When you have a child you go through a transition, and sometimes that involves having to face events from your past. It also involves doing what you can to make the decisions that you think are best for your child, regardless of anyone else's opinions. I tried to show some of that in this story. While she loves everything about her son she has valid concerns for his tail. She removes Trunks' tail because she is aware that he's going to be extraordinary enough as it is growing up, and wants to add just a little bit of normalcy into his childhood. She does what she thinks is best for Trunks and is trying to make Vegeta understand this. While this can be perceived as being "spineless", I'd like to think of it as making her a three-dimensional character. 
> 
> The story that follows this one currently has a total of 42 chapters and is still in progress. As I did with The 3 Year Gap, I will be proof-reading the already completed chapters as I post them in order to check for grammar or spelling errors. I hope you enjoyed this story, and regardless of how you may feel about its ending I do want to thank you for the time you took to read it. :)


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